
Class. 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



WASHINGTON 



THE GENERALS 



OP THE 



American RexjoluttDu- 

TWO VOLUMES COMPLETE IN oIe?^^^' 



WITH FINELY-ENGRAVED PORTRAITS, 



fROM ORIGINAL fICTUKES. 



N£W EDITION. WITH CORRECTIONS. 



V^OL. I. 



i'-tB ' ^ 



PHILADELPHIA 
EDWAED MEEKS, 

1002 Walnut Stkeet. 



Copyright. 

EDWARD MEEKS. 

1885. 



SOG 



*G{S^^ 



PREnCS TO THE NEW EDITION. 



The American Revolution was one of the 
grandest events in history; and for its influence 
upon the condition of men, and the destinies 
of nations, it must long remain among the most 
interesting subjects of study. But readers have 
hitherto been without any work of authority 
through which they might be made acquainted 
with its actors. 

Scattered biographies of many of the leading 
soldiers of the time have indeed appeared, but 
no one production that could serve as a com- 
panion to our military annals, properly intro- 
ducing the dramatis personcB. In tins volume 
an attempt has been made to supply this want, 
a 2 V 



VI PREFACE. 

To produce it, the accessible i^ublished and un- 
published memoirs, correspondence, and other 
materials relating to the period, have been 
carefully examined and faithfully reflected. 

It is believed that while it will gratify a 
Laudable curiosity, it will also, in most cases, 
deepen the reverence with which the people 
of this country regard the purchasers of their 
liberties. 

PuiLADELPHIA, 1885. 



CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 



TAa* 
GEORGE WASHINGTON, Commander-in-Chief 1 

Popular recognition of Grealness — Washington's extraordinary Abili- 
ties — How estimated — Comparison of him with his most illustrious 
Coitemporaries — His early Experience — Expedition to the Ohio — Ap- 
pointed a Lieutenant-Colonel — Fort Necessity — Great Meadows — Brad- 
doCiS's Expedition — Commands the Virginia Troops — Married — Dele- 
gated to Congress — Elected Chief of the Army— Establishment of Dis- 
cipline — Correspondence with Gage — Enthusiasm and Perseverance- 
British evacuate Boston — He visits Philadelphia — Concentrates his 
Forces in New York — Battle of Long Island — Embarkation at Brook- 
lyn — Retreat through New Jersey — He is invested with dictatorial 
Power — Battle of Trenton; of Princeton; of Brandyvvine; of German- 
town — Treaty with France — Battle of Monmouth; of Stoney Point — 
He visits Rochambeau — Treason of Arnold — Affairs in the South — 
Surrender ofCornwallis — Incidents at Newburgh — He takes leave of 
the Army — Elected President — Closing Events of his Life — His military 
Character. 

MAJOR-GENERAL NATHANIEL GREENE 61 

Parentage — Education — Elected to the Rhode Island Assembly — Com- 
mands the Troops of the Colony — On Long Island — In New York — ^The 
Retreat through New Jersey — Washington's Confidence in him — Con- 
duct at Brandy wine; at Germantown — Conway Cabal — His Conduct 
at Monmouth; in Rhode Island — Resigns the Quartermaster's Depar*- 
ment — Affair at Elizabethtown — Presides at the Trial of Andr6 — Joins 
the Army in the South — Reception in Carolina — Anecdote — Passage of 
the Yadkin — Retreat to Virginia — Recrosses the Dan — Battle of Guil- 
ford Court-House; of Hobkirk's Hill — Siege of Fort Ninety-Six — Mur- 
der of Colonel Hayne — Battle of Eutaw — Close of the Campaign — Re- 
ceives public Honours — Conspiracy in the Pennsylvania Line — Close 
of the War — He removes to Georgia — His Death and Character. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE 105 

Of Irish Descent — Interest in public Affairs — Raises a Regiment — Joins 
Sullivan in Canada — Appointed a Brigadier-General — Conduct in Nev^ 
Jersey — At Brandywine — Near Lancaster — Court of Inquiry —Battle 
of Germantown — He obtains Supplies — Battle of Monmouth — Washing- 
ton commends him — Storming of Stoney Point — Thanks of Congress — 

vii 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Leiter to Wasainglon — Revolt of the Pennsylvania I/inc — Tlis Conduct 
in the South — Defeats the Creeks — At the Close of the War. enters th« 
Legislature — Commander-in-Chief against the Indians — His Success- 
Treaty of Greenville — Commissioner to treat with the Indians — Die« — 
His Monument 

MAJOR-GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM > 133 

Now England Manners a Hundred Years Ago — Putnam's early Occu- 
pation — Engages in the Seven Years' War — Events of ITSS-t) — Bold 
Adventures — Bravery; Sagacity; Cheerfulness — He is appointed a 
Major — Rescues Captain Litile — Captured liy the Indians— Campaign 
of 1759— The Stamp-Act— Battle of Bunker Hill— Elecled a Major- 
Geiieral — Battle of Long Island — Curious Stratagem — Alfairs on the 
H)iuBur> — £s«&ii« at Horseneck — His Death and Character 

raAJOR-GENERAL HORATIO GATES 15' 

His early military Service — Stationed at Halifax — Accompanies Brad- 
dock — Wounded — Attack on Martinico — Peace of Pans — lie settles 
in America — Personal Appearance — Joins the revolutionary Army — 
Commands in the North — Rejoins the Commander-in-Chief — Descent 
of Burgxjyne — He resumes the Conimaiid of the northern Army — Battle 
of Suratog-a — Aims at Ihe supreme Authority— Ordered to the South — 
[X^feat at Camden — ICnd of his military Career — Elected to the New 
York Legistaiurc — Death — His abilities and Services. 

MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM EARL OF STIRLING.... 164 
His Family and Education — Aid de Camp to General Shirley — Earldom 
of Stirling — His Claims to the Pcerago — Rotiiras from Great Britain to 
New Jersey — Einploymeiits — Private Life — Beginning of the Revolu- 
tion — Joins the Contiiiontal Line — Thanks o( Congress for his gallant 
Capture of a British TraiisiK)rl — Fortifies New York — Bailie of l^ng 
Island — Taken Prisoner — I'.veiits in New Jersey — Baltic of Brandy- 
wne — The CVsnway Cabal — His Death — His public and private Cha- 
racter. 

MAJOR-GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER 183 

Described by Mrs. Grant of Laggan — The Scene of his Life — Service 
under Lord Howe — In the Legislature — Resists Britisli Aggression — 
Elected to Congress — Commands the northern Division — Thanks of 
Congress^Approach of Burgoyne — Affair of Fort Stanwix — Super- 
seded by Gates — His civil Services — Close of his Life. 

M \JOR-GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN 194 

His Youth — He is aduiined lo the bar — 1'ngagcd in the first military Op- 
position to British Rule — Enters Congress — Brigadier-General — Com- 
mands In Ciuiadii — Succeeded by Gates — Taken Prisoner on l^ng 
Island — Expeililion to Slaten Island — Battle of Brandywine — Battle of 
Gerniantown— Valley Forge — Commands in Rhode-Island — Dithcultie* 
with the French — Retreat iVom Newport — Thanks of Congress -Ex- 
pedition against the Iroquois — Polilical Services— Death. 



CONTENTS. iX 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL HUGH MERCER 215 

The British Empire a Hundred Years Ago — Hugh Mercer in the Camp 
of Charles Edward— Kmigrales to America — Engages in the French 
War— Serves under John Armstrong — Becomes acquainted with Wash- 
ngton — Concord of the Colonics — Reflections on the Times — His first 
Campaign in the Revolution— Battle of Trenton— Battle of Princeton- 
Wounded — Dies. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN ARMSTRONG 234 

Affair at Kittanning — Appointed Brigadier-General — Resignation — Com- 
mands Pennsylvania Militia at Brandywine and Germantown — In 
Congress — Death. 

MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY KNOX 235 

His Occupation before the Revolution— A Volunteer at the Battle of 
Bunker Hill — His Acquaintance with Andr^ — Commands the Artillery 
— In every Battle with Washington — His Confidence of Success — 
Praised by the Commander-in-Chief for his Conduct at Monmouth- 
Washington's Friendship for him — He founds the Society of Cincinnati 
— Appointed Secretary of War— His personal Appearance — Major 
General under President Adams — His Death and Character. 

MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD 243 

Washington's Judgment of him — Analysis of his Character — His early 
Life — Reckless Adventures — Associations of Fort Ticonderoga — His 
Services on Lake Champlain — Expedition to Quebec — Bravery and 
Folly — Scenes at Quebec — Attack on the City — Enterprise, Indiscre- 
tion, Want of Honour — Conflict with the British Fleet — AflTair at Dan- 
bury — Appointed Major-Gencral — Understood by Congress — Conduct 
at Saratoga — Commands at Philadelphia — Secret mercantile Partner- 
ship — Interest in local Politics— The Meschianza— Reprimanded for 
Misconduct — Correspondence with Andrfi — Appointed to West Point 
— Meeting with Andrfi — The Treason — Ruffianism in Connecticut and 
Virginia — His Death — His Infamy. 

MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM SMALLWOOD 274 

Appointed a Brigadier-General— With Sullivan at Staten Island— In the 
Buttle of Germantown— With Gates in the South— Absurd Pretension* 
in regard to Rank — Leaves the Army — In Congress — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN P. DE HAAS 275 

Little Knowledge possessed in regard to him. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ARTHUR ST. CLAIR 276 

His unhappy History- Early Life— With Wolfe at Quebec— Res.des in 
Pennsylvania — Marches with a Regiment to Canada, in 1776 — Ap- 
pcmted Major-General — Abandonment of Ticonderoga — Battle of Hub- 
bardton — Court of Inquiry — Washington's Confidence in him — Elected 
to Congress — Governor of the north-western Territoiy--IIi« Defeat by 
Ube Indians — Poverty— Death— Monument. 



X CONTENTS. 

/AM 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL ELBERT 28i 

Kxpeilition to Floridii — Governor ot"(;eorgia — Beuth. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM IRVINE 284 

Surgeos ill llie IJritisli Navy — Emigrates to Americu — a Member of the 
first CV>i.gress — Kaiscs a Regiment — Captured at Trois Rivieres — Ap- 
pointed Urigadier-General — Coininands Fort Pitt — Tlie Whisky In- 
Rurrectioii — Close of his Life. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE WEEDON 286 

Account of him from SmytliW Travels — Retires from the Continental 
Service, and commands in the Virginia Militia. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES M. VARNUM 287 

Studies Law — Enters the Army — Commands in New Jersey — Resigns 
his commission — A Member of the Old Congress — Judge- of the Su- 
preme Court of Ohio — I'orensic Abilities 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM vVOODFORD 289 

Wounded at the Uattle of Brandy wine — Taken Prisoner at Charleston — 
Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL OTHO H. WILLIAMS 291 

At Fort Washington — Camden — Made Adjutant-General — Brilliant Con- 
duct at the Battle of Eutaw — Brigadier-General — End of his Life. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL STEPHEN MOYLAN 292 

Aid-de-Camp to Washington — Commissary-General — Enters the Line of 
the Army — Commands a regiment of Dragoons — Appointed Brigadier- 
General. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOUGALL 293 

Washington's Opinion of him — His Address to the People of New York — 
Imprisonment — Defiance of the Assembly — Presides at the Meeting in 
the Fields — Activity in Preparing for the War — Colonel — Brigadier- 
General — Promotion recommended by the Commander-in-Chief — Ser- 
vices in the Army — Sent to Congress — Letter to General Reed — Minister 
of Marine — Member of the New York Senate — Deatli. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GLOVER 299 

Marblehead Regiment at Cambridge — Glover's Services in organizing 
the Troops — Made a Brigadier-Gent ral — Correspondence with Wash- 
ington — Joins Schuyler — Has chargi of the surrendered Army of 
Burgoyne — In New Jersey— In Rhcde Island— In Massachusetts — 
His Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL LACHLAN McIN fOSH 301 

Settlement of live Mcintosh Family in Georgia— General Oglethorpe — 
John More Mcintosh— Education of Lachlan Mcintosh — Spends hia 
Youth with Henry Laurens — Becomes a Surveyor — Brigadier-General 
of the Georgia Militia— Kills Button Gwinnett in a Duel — Joins the 
Continental Army — Sent to the Ohio — With Lincoln in Charleston — 
Marches to Savannah — Disagreement with the French Admiral- 
Slaughter at Savannah— Foil of Charleston— Last Days of Mcintosh. 



C O N T K N T S. XI 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM THOMPSON 305 

Pennsylvania Regiment of Riflemen — Tliotnpson serve* as Captain ia 
the French War — Joins llie revolutionary Army at Cambridge — AlTuir 
at Lechmcre Point— Appointed nrigadier-GonernI— Joins the Nbrihein 
Army— Attacks the Knomy at Three Rivers— Taken Prisoner— Ex- 
etmaged. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN NIXON 306 

At the Capture of Louishourg — At the Defeal of Abercroinbio — At Lex- 
ington and Runker Hill — Made lirigadier-General — With Gates — At 
the Battle of Stillwater — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL MORDECAI GIST 307 

Trained to commercial Mfe— Personal Appearance- On I,oMg Island — 
Made Colonel — Urigadicr-Gencral — Hatlle ofCunulen — Tliiinks of Con- 
gress — Commands the light Troops at Combahee — Death — His Sons. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL DAVID WOOSTER 309 

Visits England — His Reception— Serves in the French War- In the Re- 
volution—At Quebec— The AflTair al Danbury— Mortally Wounded. 

MAJOR-GENERAL JOSEPH SPENCER... 311 

In the French War — Among the first Brigadiers appoint'^! by the Conti- 
nental Congri-ss — In ISostcm— Sent to Connecticut — commands in Rhode 
Island — Failure al Newport- His old Ago. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ENOCH POOR 313 

Lafayette's Recollections — Poor's early Life — Appointed Colonel — Or- 
dered to New York — Canada — I5rigadier-(Jcneral — Valley Forge — Ac- 
companies Sullivan to the Six Nations — His Death — Announced by 
Washington to Congress. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES MOORE 311? 

First Tory Hlood shed in North Carolina—" Highlanders" and " Regula- 
tors" — Colonel Moore's Expedition against them — Correspondence with 
General McDonald — Battle with him — Thanks of the Provincial Con- 
gress — His Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN PATTERSON 319 

A Berkshire Preacher — John Pallerson in the Massachusetts Congress 
— Leads a Regiment to Cambridge — Ordered to Canada — March to 
Trenton — Shay's Rebellion. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES REED 8X1 

New Hampshire before the Revolution — Colonel Reed commands a B«- 
giment at Charleston — Sent to Cana<la — Pestilence — Retreat — Reed ap- 
poiuteil a Brigadier-General — Resigns on account of Illness. 



Xll CONTENTS. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL SETH POMROY 323 

In Uie French War— Kills the Raron Diesknii— At Bunker's Hill— Ap- 
pointed Brigadier-General — Resigns— Command* the Militia. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JETHRO SUMNER 163 

Activity in preparing (o: the R4jvolution— Appointed a Colonei— rro- 
moted. 



WASHINGTON 



AND THE 



GENERALS OF THE REYOLIITION. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

It is a truth, illustrated in daily experience, and yet 
rarely noted or acted upon, that, in all that concerns the 
appreciation of personal character or ability, the instinctive 
impressions of a community are quicker in their action, 
more profoundly appreciant, and more reliable, than the 
intellectual perceptions of the ablest men in the community. 
Upon all those subjects (hat are of moral apprehension, 
society seems to possess an intelligence of its own, infi- 
nitely sensitive in its delicacy, and almost conclusive in 
the certainty of its determinations; indirect, and uncon- 
scious in its operation, yet unshunnable in sagacity, and 
as strong and confident as nature itself. The highest and 
finest qualities of human judgment seem to be in commis- 
sion among the nation, or the race. It is by such a pro- 
cess, that whenever a true hero appears among mankind, 
the recognition of his character, by tlie general sense of 

Vol. I. 1 



2 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

humanity, is instant and certain: the belief of the chief 
priests ani rulers of mind, follows later, or comes not at 
all. The perceptions of a public are as subtly-sighted, as 
its passions are blind. It sees, and feels, and knows the 
excellence, which it can neither understand, nor explain, 
nor vindicate. These involuntary opinions of people at 
large explain themselves, and are vindicated by events, 
and form at last the constants of human understanding. 
A character of the first order of greatness, such as seems 
to pass out of the limits and course of ordinary life, often 
lies above the ken of intellectual judgment ; but its merits 
ard its infirmities never escape the sleepless perspicacify 
of the common sentiment, which no novelty of form can 
surprise, and no mixture of qualities can perplex. The 
mind — the logical faculty — comprehends a subject, when 
it can trace in it the same elements, or relations, which it 
is familiar with elsewhere : if it finds but a faint analogy 
of form or substance, its decision is embarrassed. But 
this other instinct seems to become subtler, and more 
rapid, and more absolute in conviction, at the line where 
reason begins to falter. Take the case of Shakspeare. His 
surpassing greatness was never acknowledged by the 
learned, until the nation had ascertained and settled it as a 
foregone and questionless conclusion. Even now, to the 
roost sagacious mind of this time, the real ground and 
evidence of its own assurance of Shakspeare's supremacy, 
is the universal, deep, immovable conviction of it in the 
public feeling. There have been many acute essays upon 
his minor characteristics ; but intellectual criticism hao 
never grappled with Shaksperian art, in its entireness and 
grandeur, and probably it never will. We know not 
now, wherein his greatness consists. We cannot demon- 
strate it. There is less indistinctness in the merit of less 
eminent authors. Those things which are not doubts to 
our consciousness, are yet mysteries to our mind. And 
>f tb's is true of literary art, which is so much within Ihe 



HIS GREAT ABILITIES. 4 

sphere ol reflection, it may be expected to find more 
striking illustration in great practical and public moral 
characters. 

These considerations occur naturally to the mind in con- 
templating the fame of Washington. An attentive exami- 
nation of the whole subject, and of all that can contribute 
to the formation of a sound opinion, results in the belief 
that General Washington's mental abilities illustrate the 
very highest type of greatness. His mind, probably, was 
one of the very greatest that was ever given to mortality. 
Yet it is impossible to establish that position by a direct 
analysis of his character, or conduct, or productions. 
When we look at the incidents or the results of that great 
career — when we contemplate the qualities by which it is 
marked, from its beginning to its end — the foresight which 
never was surprised, the judgment which nothing could 
deceive, the wisdom whose resources were incapable of 
exhaustion — combined with a spirit as resolute in its offi- 
cial duties as it was moderate in its private pretensions, 
as indomitable in its public temper as it was gentle in its 
personal tone — we are left in wonder and reverence. But 
when we would enter into the recesses of that mind — 
when we would discriminate upon its construction, and 
reason upon its operations — when we would tell how it 
was composed, and why it excelled — we are entirely at 
fault. The processes of W^ashington's understanding are 
2ntirely hidden from ug. What came from it, in counsel 
or in action, was the life and glory of his country ; what 
went on within it, is shrouded in impenetrable concealment. 
Such elevation in degree, of wisdom, amounts almost to a 
change of kind, in nature, and detaches his intelligence 
from the sympathy of ours. W^e cannot see him as he 
was, because we are not like him. The tones of the 
mighty bell were heard with the certainty of Time itselt, 
and with a force that vibrates still upon the air of life, and 
will vibrate for ever. But the clock-work, by which they 



4 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

jvere regulated and given forth, we can neither see nor 
unde/stand. In fact, his intellectual abilities did not exist 
in an analytical and separated form ; but in a combinea 
and concrete state. They " moved altogether when they 
moved at all." They were in no degree speculative, but 
only practical. They could not act at all in the region 
of imagination, but only upon the field of reality. The 
sympathies of his intelligence dwelt exclusively in the 
national being and action. Its interests and energies were 
absorbed in them. He was nothing out of that sphere, 
because he was every thing there. The extent to which 
he was identified with the country is unexampled in the 
relations of individual men to the community. During 
the whole period of his life he was the thinking part of the 
nation. He was its mind ; it was his image and illustra- 
tion. If we would classify and measure him, it must be 
with nations, and not with individuals. 

This extraordinary nature of Washington's capacities — 
this impossibility of analyzing and understanding the ele- 
ments and methods of his wisdom — have led some persons 
to doubt whether, intellectually, he was of great superiori- 
ty; but the public — the community — never doubted of the 
transcendant eminence of Washington's abilities. From 
the first moment of his appearance as the chief, the recog- 
niiion of him, from one end of the country to the other, as 
THE MAN — the leader, the counsellor, the infallible in sug 
gestion and in conduct — was immediate and universal. 
From that moment to the close of the scene, the national 
confidence in his capacity was as spontaneous, as enthu- 
siastic, as immovable, as it was in his integrity. Particu- 
lar persons, affected by the untoward course of events, 
sometimes questioned his sufficiency ; but the nation never 
questioned it, nor would allow it to be questioned 
Neither misfortune, nor disappointment, nor accidents, 
nor delay, nor the protracted gloom of years, could avail 
».o disturb the public trust in him. It was apart from cir- 



HOW TO ESTIMATE HIS CHARACTER. ^ 

cumstances; it was beside the action of caprice ; it was 
beyond all visionary, and above all changeable feelings. 
It was founded on nothing extraneous; not upon what he 
had said or done, but upon what he was. They saw 
something in the man, which gave them assurance of a 
nature and destiny of the highest elevation — something 
inexplicable, but which inspired a complete satisfaction. 
We feel that this reliance was wise and right; but 
why it was felt, or why it was right, we are as much to 
seek as those who came under the direct impression of his 
personal presence. It is not surprising, that the world re- 
cognising in this man a nature and a greatness which 
philosophy cannot explain, should revere him almost to 
religion. 

The distance and magnitude of those objects which are 
too far above us to be estimated directly — such as stars- 
are determined by their parallax. By some process of 
that kind we may form an approximate notion of Wash- 
ington's greatness. We may measure him against the 
great events in which he moved ; and against the great 
men, among whom, and above whom, his figure stood 
like a tower. It is agreed that the war of American Inde- 
pendence is one of the most exalted, and honourable, and 
difficult achievements related in history. Its force was 
contributed by many ; but its grandeur was derived from 
Washington. His charac'er and wisdom gave unity, and 
dignity, and effect to the irregular, and often divergent en- 
thusiasm of others. His energy combined the parts ; his 
intelligence guided the whole : his perseverance, and 
fortitude, and resolution, were the inspiration and support 
of all. In looking back over that period, his presence 
seems to fill the whole scene ; his influence predominates 
throughout ; his character is reflected from every thing. 
Perhaps nothing less than his immense weight of mind 
could have kept the national system, at home, in that po- 
sition which t held, immovably, for seven years; perhaps 
1* 



D GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

nothing but the august respectability which his demeanour 
threw around the American cause abroad, would have 
induced a foreign nation to enter into an equal alliance 
with us upon terras that contributed in a most important 
degree to our final success, or would have caused Great 
Britain to feel that no great indignity was suffered in ad- 
mitting the claim to national existence of a people who 
had such a representative as Washington. What but the 
most eminent qualities of mind and feeling — discretion 
superhuman — readiness of invention, and dexterity of 
means, equal to the most desperate atlairs — endurance, 
self-control, regulated ardour, restrained passion, caution 
mingled with boldness, and all the contrarieties of moral 
excellence — could have expanded the life of an individual 
into a career such as this? 

If we compare him with the great men who were his 
contemporaries throughout the nation ; in an age of extra- 
ordinary personages, Washington was unquestionably the 
first man of the time in ability. Review the correspon- 
dence of General Washington — that sublime monument of 
intelligence and integrity — scrutinize the public history and 
the public men of that era, and you will find that in all the 
wisdom that was accomplished or was attempted, Wash- 
ington was before every man in his suggestions of the plan, 
and beyond every one in the extent to which he contri- 
buted to its adoption. In the field, all the able generals 
acknowledged his superiority, and looked up to him 
wiih loyalty, reliance, and reverence ; the others, who 
doubted his ability, or conspired against his sovereignty, 
illustrated, in their own conduct, their incapacity to be 
either his judges or his rivals. In the state, Adams, Jay, 
Rutledge, Pinckney, Morris — these are great names; but 
there is not one whose wisdom does not vail to his. His 
superiority was felt by all these persons, and was felt by 
Washington himself, as a simple matter of fact, as little a 
subject of question, or a cause of vanity, as the eminence 



COMPARED WITH HAMILTON. 7 

of his personal stature. His appointment as commander- 
in-chief, was the result of no design on his part, and of no 
efforts on the part of his friends ; it seemed to take place 
spontaneously. He moved into the position, because there 
was a vacuura'which no other could supply: in it, he was 
not sustained by government, by a party, or by connexions; 
he susiained himself; and then he sustained every thing 
else. He sustained Congress against the army, and the 
army against the injustice of Congress. The brightest 
mind among his contemporaries was Hamilton's; a cha- 
racter which cannot be contemplated without frequent ad- 
miration, and constant affection. His talents took the 
form of'genius, which Washington's did not. But active, 
various, and brilliant, as the faculties of Hamilton were, 
whether viewed in the precocity of youth, or in the all- 
accomplished elegance of maturer life — lightning-quick as 
his intelligence was to see through every subject that came 
before it, and vigorous as it was in constructing the argu- 
mentation by which other minds were to be led, as upon a 
shapely bridge, over the obscure depths across which his 
had flashed in a moment — fertile and sound in schemes, 
ready in action, splendid in display, as he was — nothing 
is more obvious and certain than that when Mr. Hamilton 
approached Washington, he came into the presence of one 
who surpassed him in the extent, in the comprehension, 
the elevation, the sagacity, the force, and the ponderous- 
ness of his mind, as much as he did in the majesty of his 
aspect, and the grandeur of his step. The genius of Ha- 
milton was a flower, which gratifies, surprises, and en- 
chants; the intelligence of Washington was a stately tree, 
which in the rarity and true dignity of its beauty is as su- 
perior, as it is in its dimensions. 

GicoRGE Washington, third son of Augustine Washing- 
ton, and the eldest of five children by a second marriage, 
was born on the 22d of February, 1732, near the Potomac, 
in Westmoreland county, Virginia. His great grandfathei 



8 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Uad einigratid about the year 1657, from the north of 
England, where his family had long been eminent, and in 
some of its branches was allied to nobility. The senti- 
ment of social respectability — the consciousness of having 
been born a gentleman, was an important element in Ge- 
neral Washington's character, and contributed to deter- 
mine the kind of reputation which he obtained from the 
country. In 1743, his eldest half-brother married the 
daughter of the Hon. George William Fairfax, and in con- 
sequence of this connexion, Mr. Washington was appointed 
surveyor in the western part of Virginia, by Lord Fairfax, 
then proprietor of the northern neck. At the Natural 
Bridge, in Rockbridge county, carved at a great elevation, 
theinitialsof the young surveyor's name, renewed, of course, 
in later years, are still shown to the traveller. For a long 
time it was the highest inscription at the place ; but lately, 
some one has had the indilTerent taste to register his insicj- 
nificance over the name of the Father of his country. 
There is another tablet on which the world will readily 
give him leave to write his name above that of Washing- 
ton, if he thinks fit. About the middle of the century, the 
attention of Lieutenant-Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, 
was attracted to the encroachments of the French, in the 
north, who appeared to be engaged in dinnecting their 
possessions in Canada with those in Louisiana, by a line 
of forts extending down the Alleghany and Ohio rivers; 
and he determined to send a messenger to require, in the 
name of the English monarch, that these posts should be 
discontinued. The mission was intrusted to Mr. Wash- 
ington, then at the age of twenty-one ; and in the begin- 
ning of November, 1753, he set out from Williamsburg, 
on his toilsome and perilous tour. Encountering many 
obstacles from the snow, he crossed the Alleghany moun- 
tains, visited the forks of the Ohio, now Pittsburgh, passed 
what is now the town of Franklin, at the confluence of the 
Alleghany river and French creek, ascended the latter 



ADVENTURE ON THE ALLEGHANY. 3 

Stream, passing Meadville, as far apparently as the smal^. 
lake, Le Boeuf. It was at a fort at this point, near pro- 
bably to the present town of Waterford, in F]rie county, 
that Washington had his interview with the French officer 
in command on the Ohio, and delivered the letter of Go- 
vernor Dinwiddie. A letter was written in answer, and 
the youthful ambassador set off on his return, on the 15th 
of December, to traverse that wintry and inhospitable re- 
gion. An adventure on the Alleghany river, about two 
miles above Pittsburgh, on the 28th of December, is thus 
described in a journal kept by Washington for the informa- 
tion of Governor Dinwiddie, and afterwards published. 
"We expected to have found the river frozen, but it was 
not, only about fifty yards from each shore. The ice, I 
suppose, had broken up above, for it was driving in vast 
quantities. There was no way of getting over but on a 
raft, which we set about, with but one poor hatchet, and 
finished just after sun-setting. This was a whole day's 
work; we next got it launched, then went on board of it, 
and set off; but before we were half way over, we were 
jammed in the ice in such a manner, that we expected 
every moment our raft to sink and ourselves to perish. I 
put out my setting pole to try to stop the raft, that the ice 
might pass by, when the rapidity of the stream threw it 
with such violence against the pole, that it jerked me out, 
into ten feet water ; but I fortunately sav^d myself by catch- 
ing hold of one of the raft logs. Notwithstanding all our 
efforts, we could not get to either shore, but were obliged, 
as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make to it. 
The cold was so extremely severe, that Mr. Gist had all 
his fingers and some of his toes frozen;^' His conduct on 
this mission, made known by the publication of his journal, 
attracted much admiration and respect. 

In 1754, Washington was appointed lieutenant-colonel 
of a regiment of three hundred men, under the command 
of Colonel Fry, which was raised by the Assembly of Vir 



iO G E O R G E W A S H I N C T N. 

ginia, for the purpose of resisting (he aggressions of the 
French. By the death of Colonel Fry, .'■con afterwards, 
the command devolved upon him ; ami in July of that year 
he distinguished himself by a bravo detVnce of Fort Ne- 
cessity, at the Great Meadows, in the Aliigliany mountains, 
against a very superior French force, under the command 
of M. De Villier. The fort capitulated, after a loss of 
fifty-eight of the Virginia regiment, killed and wounded; 
but the gallantry of Washington and his comrades received 
the special thanks of the legislature of Virginia, and the 
applause of the country generally. Towards the close of 
the year, Colonel Washington, disgusted with the arrange- 
ments by which officers in the roval service were au- 
thorized to take rank above provincial officers, quitted the 
service, and fixed his residence at Mount Vernon, which 
he had recently inheritetl under the will of his brother. 

On the 14th of April, 1755, a council wi)^ held at the 
camp at Alexandria, by General Edward Braddock, com- 
mander-in-chief of the royal forces in America, the Hon. Au- 
gustus Keppel, commander-in-chief of the tleet. Governor 
Dinwiddie, and others, at which an enterprise against the 
French forts of Niagara and Crown Point, and the rein- 
forcement of Fort Oswego, were determined upon. In 
execution of the plan arranged at this council. General 
Braddock moved from Alexandria at the head of a de- 
tachment, consisting of two English regiments — the 44th 
and 4Sth — and some companies of New York and Vir- 
ginia provincial troops. Desirous of availing himself ol 
the local knowledge as well as military service of Colonel 
Washington, he offered him the post of aid-de-camp, 
which was readily accepted. The expedition left Fort 
Cumberland, on Willes's Creek, in Maryland, on the 12th 
of June, 1755. On reaching the Great Meadows, it was, 
upon the advice of Washington, determined to push for- 
ward twelve hundred troops, w^ith the light artillery, under 
the personal command of Braddock, with the greatest ra- 



BRADDOCk's DEFEAT. 11 

pidity, to Fort Da Quesne — then just erected — to take ad- 
vantage of its sdpposed feebleness before reinforcements 
and supplies could reach it ; leaving the heavy artillery 
and baggage with the rear division of the army at Great 
Meadows, under Colonel Dunbar, with orders to join the 
advanced corps as soon as possible. The progress of this 
select corps was, however, so slow, that it did not reach 
the banks of the Monongahela till about the 8th of July. 
Colonel Washington, who had been left on the 23d of 
June at the great ford of the Youghiogany, ill with a vio- 
lent fever, rejoined the army on that day in a covered 
wagon, and entered on the services of his post. There 
being some steep and rugged ground on the north side of 
the Monongahela, the troops, early on the 9th, crossed tc 
the southern side, about twenty-five miles from Fort Du 
Quesne, and marched along that bank for about fifteen 
miles, when they recrossed and advanced towards the fort. 
They h^d just entered upon a level plain, about nine milea 
from Fort Du Quesne, now called in that neighbourhood 
Braddock's Field, when they fell into an ambush of 
Indians and French, which resulted in their destruction. 

Of this panic and rout, so well known as Braddock's 
defeat, in wliich a company of the finest troops, who, 
as Colonel Washington observed, a few moments before 
thought themselves equal to the force of Car»ada, were 
scattered and destroyed by a handful of French and 
savages, who merely intended to molest and annoy their 
march, one of the best accounts is contained in a letter 
written to Governor Morris by Robert Orme, one of the 
general's aids-de-camp, and dated at Fort Cumberland, 
July I8ih, 1755. A part of this letter only has ever before 
been published ; and as the narrative is clear and succinct, 
a part not hitherto in print is here extracted : 

"The 9th instant," says the writer, who was with the 
raam body, under Braddock, " we passed and repassed 
the Moncngahela, by advancing first a party of three hun- 



12 G E O R G K WASHINGTON. 

dred men, wliich was iinmoiliately followed by one of two 
hundred. The general, with the column of artillery, 
baggage, and the main body of the army, passed the river 
the last time about one o'clock. As soon as the whole 
had got on the fort side of the Monongahela, we heard a 
very heavy and quick fire in our front. We immediately 
advanced, in order to sustain them ; but the detachments 
of the two and three hunilred men gave way, and fell 
back upon us, which caused such confusion, and struck so 
great a panic among our men, thai afterwards no military 
expedient could be made use of that had any elFect upon 
them. The men were so extremely deaf to the exhorta- 
tion of the general and the othcers, that they fired away, 
in the most irregular manner, but without any effect upon 
the enemy, and fled, leaving all their ammunition, provi- 
sions, and baggage ; nor could they be persuaded to stop, 
till they got as far as Gist's plantation ; nor there only in 
part, many of them proceeding as far as Colonel Dunbar's 
party, who lay six miles on this side. The oihcers were 
absolutely sacrificed by their unparalleled good behaviour; 
advancing sometimes in bodies, and sometimes separately ; 
hoping by such examples to engage the soldiers to follow 
them ; but to no purpose. The general had five horses 
kiUed under him, and at last received a wound through 
hijj right arm into his lungs, of which he died on the 13th 
instant. Poor Shirley* was shot through the head ; Cap- 
t?m Morrisf was wounded. Mr. Washington had two 
horses shot under him, and his clothes shot through in 
several places, behaving the whole time with the greatest 
courage and resolution. Sir Peter HalketiJ: was killed 
upon the spot. Colonel Burton§ and Sir John St. Clair]] 
^^•ounded." 

The writer encloses a list of about six hundred oien 

• The Hon. Wm. Shirley, Esq., Secretary. 

■f Roger Morris, Esq., Aid-ile-camp. 

j Colonel of the Forty-fourth. 

§ Lieutenaiit-Colonel of the Forty-eighth. 

II Deputy Quartermast<>r-General. 



HISMARRIAGE, 13 

killed and wounded, as far as could then be ascertained. 
Colonel Dunbar returned to Fort Cumberland with the 
remains of the army, the whole artillery, ammunition, and 
stores having been left or destroyed ; and not long after- 
wards marched to Philadelphia. 

The conduct of Colonel Washington elevated him to the 
highest place in the esteem and respect of the community. 
The command of the Virginia troops was given to him by 
the legislature of the colony, with flattering marks of the 
public trust and admiration. Until the close of (he year 
1758 he continued to be actively engaged in opposition to 
the French, and in repelling the aflnual inroads of the 
Indians on the frontier. Th;se occupati'ins were of un- 
appreciable value in the formation of his military character, 
and in the establishment of a reputation throughout the 
colonies, which caused him to be looked to with universal 
confidence at the outbreak of the war of independence. 
But the minute detail of these irregular operations would 
be of little interest to the reader. In the winter of 1758 
he retired from the army, and soon after was married to 
Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of fortune, and amiable charac- 
ter, daughter of Mr. John Danbridge, and widow of Mr. 
John Parke Custis. In the following spring he retired to 
Mount Vernon, and in the honourable and manly pursuits 
of a Virginia planter, or country gentleman, he continued 
until, in 1774, at the age of forty-two, he was appointed 
by the convention of Virginia one of seven delegates to 
represent that colony in the Congress, at Philadelphia. 
This Congress assembled in Philadelphia, of that year, and 
Washington at once took that rank among its members 
which every circumstance of his life sustained. " If you 
Dpeak of eloquence," said Patrick Henry, one of the Vir- 
ginia delegates, when asked, on his return home, whom 
he thought the greatest man in Congress ; " Mr. Rutledge^ 
of South Carolina, is by far the greatest orator , but if you 
speak of solid information and sound judgment, Colonel 
' Vol. I. 2 



14 G E O R G K WASHINGTON. 

Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on that 
floor/' 

The second continental Congress assembled in Philadel- 
phia, on the 10th of May, 1775 ; and to this also Wash 
inston was a deleo-ate. It is not intended here to follow 
the history of the rise and progress of the Revolution ; nor 
to give a complete view of the war of the Revolution. It 
is designed merely to trace the personal connexion of 
Washington with the military events of the period. The 
acquaintance of the reader with the general outline of 
events is therefore taken for granted. The battles of Lex- 
ington and Concord had been fought, in April, 1775, and 
every where it was felt that the war had begun. Congress 
proceeded at once to take into consideration the subject 
of organizino: a K^'neral militarv defence throufrhout the 
colonies. It is owing to the patriotism and liberal views 
and feelings of Massachusetts, and especially of John 
Adams and Artemus Ward, that this ditficult task was 
accomplished. At this time a considerable body of New 
England troops, under the command of General Ward, 
who acted by the appointment of Massachusetts, was oc- 
cupied in the siege of Boston ; and, early in June, Mr. 
Adams moved that this force should be adopted by Con- 
gress, as the continental army ; and added, that it was his 
intention to propose, for commander-in-chief, a certain 
gentleman from Virginia, who was then a member of that 
body. A few days after, Washington was nominated by 
Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland ; and the vote being 
taken by ballot, he was found to be unanimously elected. 
With a dignity that nothing ever surprised or embarrassed, 
Washington at once placed himself upon the very highest 
moral grountl with regard to this appointment, and as- 
sumed an impregnable position before the country, in 
which neither failure on his own part, nor cabals on the 
part of others, could disturb or impair his firmness, inde- 
pendence, and honour. On the following morning, when 



RECEIVES HIS COMMISSION 15 

the decision of the House was communicated to him, ho 
rose in his place, and, in acknowledging and accepting 
the duty, said : — " But lest some unlucky event should 
happen, unfavourable to my reputation, I beg it may be 
remembered by every gentleman in the room, that I this 
day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think my- 
self equal to the command I am honoured with." At the 
same time he declined all pecuniary compensation, which, 
before the appointment, had been fixed at five hundred 
dollars a month ; but stated that he would keep an exact 
account of his expenses, which Congress, no doubt, would 
discharge. Two days after, in a letter to his wife, he gave 
utterance to a sentiment which was shared very generally 
throughout the nation : " As it has been a kind of destiny 
that has thrown me upon this service," said he, '< I shall 
hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some 
good purpose." The appointment of General Washing- 
ton was made on the 15th of June, 1775, two days 
before the battle of Bunker Hill was fought. On the 19th, 
his commission and instructions as " general and com- 
mander-in-chief of the army of the United Colonies, 
and of all the forces raised or to be raised by them, and 
of all others who shall voluntarily offer their service and 
join the said army, for the defence of American liberty,' 
were made out, and delivered to him ; and on the 21st, 
attended by Lee, Schuyler, and other distinguished per- 
sons, he set out for the camp at Cambridge, tarrying a few 
days at New York. His progress was like the triumphant 
passage of a deliverer, or a " tutelary god ;" every where 
marks of public confidence and private respect were 
lavished upon him. He reached the camp on the 3d ot 
July, and immediately visited the several posts occupied 
by the American troops. The British army, under General 
Gage, the royal governor of Massachusetts, and commander 
ot the forces in America, amounted in all to about eleven 
thousand. The bulk of it, under General Howe, lay on 



16 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Bunker's Hill, advanced about half a mile from the place 
of the recent action, where they were strongly entrenching ; 
the light-horse, and a few infantry, were in Boston, with a 
battery on Copp's Hill ; the remainder were on Roxbury 
Neck, where they were also deeply entrenched and 
strongly fortified. On the other hand, the American 
forces were extended around Boston, at the distance of 
from one to two miles, in a pretty complete line of invest- 
ment, above twelve miles in circuit, from Mystic or Med- 
ford river, on their lefr, to Dorchester on the right. Winter 
Hill and Ploughed Hill, near the Mystic, on the extreme 
left, were occupied by the New Hampshire line, and part 
of the Rhode Island troops; Prospect Hill, in the imme- 
diate vicinity, was held by General Putnam, and the Con- 
necticut troops ; at Cambridge, in the centre, a part of the 
Massachusetts regiments were stationed ; and the residue 
of the Rhode Island troops were at Sewell's farm, between 
Cambridge and Boston, at the mouth of the Charles river. 
At Roxbury, General Thomas, with two regiments of 
Connecticut and nine of Massachusetts, had thrown up a 
strong work, which, with the irregularity of the ground, 
rendered that position a safe one. The whole American 
force was nominally about seventeen thousand ; but the 
effective force present was not much above fourteen thou- 
sand. At the first council of war, which was held at head- 
quarters, on the 9th of July, it was resolved unanimously 
to hold and defend these works as long as possible ; but 
it was also agreed that two and twenty thousand men at 
least were necessary for this service. 

The first embarrassment which the commander-in-chief 
had to encounter on assuming the command, was in car- 
rying out the arrangements of Congress for transferring the 
existing military forces to a uniform, continental system, 
and organizing the whole upon one comprehensive esta- 
blishment. About the 18th of June, Congress, m pro- 
viding for the national arrny, which it used every effort to 



APPOINTMENT OF GENERALS. il 

constitute, had appointed four major-generals — Artenius 
Ward of Massaciiusetts, at that time commander of all the 
forces raised by that colony; Charles Lee, a colonel in the 
British array, on half pay, who formally resigned that com- 
mission as soon as he was appointed, and before he was 
commissioned by Congress ; Philip Schuyler of New 
York; and Israel Putnam of Connecticut ; and on the 22d 
of June eight brigadier-generals were elected — Seth Pom- 
roy of Massachusetts, Richard Montgomery of New 
York, David Wooster of Connecticut, John Thomas of 
Massachusetts, John Sullivan of New Hampshire, and 
Nathaniel Greene of Rhode Island ; and the commissions 
of these officers were brought to the camp by General 
Washington. In these appointments Congress came in 
conflict, in some cases, with existing rank, derived from 
the separate colonies ; and in others, with the opinions en- 
tertained by some of the gentlemen themselves, in respect 
to their relative pretensions. Disgusts were occasioned ; 
threats of resignation made; and difficulties created which 
required all the influence and persuasion of the commander 
in-chief to control. The system was at last completed 
and the army distributed in the following manner: Six 
brigades of six regiments each were formed, and the whole 
thrown into three divisions, each consisting of two brigades. 
That forming the left wing was stationed at Winter and 
Prospect Hills, under Major-General Lee, with whom were 
Brigadiers Greene and Sullivan ; the right wing was at 
Roxbury, under Major-General Ward ; the centre was 
under General Putnam, at Cambridge, and the commander- 
in-chief had his headquarters at the same place. 

The next concern was the establishment of discipline, 
and the extension and completion of the works. Military 
subordination and authority were almost unknown. In 
many instances, the officers of the regiments had been 
elected bj the men, and were not superior to them in social 
standing. The greater part of the troops were %rmers and 

2* B 



18 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

mechanics, who had rushed into the field, in the sudden 
enthusiasm created by the outrages at Lexington and Con 
cord, and the contest at Bunker Hill. These acknow- 
ledged no duty but that which inclination suggested. 
" On entering the camp near Boston," says Colonel Wil- 
kinson, arriving recently from Maryland, " I was struck 
with the familiarity which prevailed among the soldiers 
and officers of all ranks ; from the colonel to the private I 
observed but little distinction ; and I could not help re- 
marking, to the young gentlemen with whom I made ac- 
quaintance, that the military discipline of these troops was 
not so great as the civil subordination of the community in 
which I lived." General Washington grappled these evils 
with a strong hand. The strictest government was enforced, 
and the distinction between officers and soldiers established 
and preserved by rigorous military penalties. At the same 
time, the works were carried on by the efforts of the whole 
army, with the utmost rapidity. But every thing was 
wanting ; engineers, tools, materials. Early in August, 
the astounding fact was discovered, that the actual quantity 
of powder in the camp did not amount to more than half 
a pound to each man. Owing to a mistake, by which the 
committee of supplies had returned the whole amount fur- 
nished by the province, instead of the existing quantity, 
the deficiency was not discovered sooner. " When this fact 
was made known to Washington," says General Sullivan, 
in a letter written August 5th, 1775, "he was so struck, 
that he did not utter a word for half an hour." What 
added to the consternation was, that owing to the rapacity 
with which stores of every kind were appropriated and re- 
tained by every village and settlement throughout the 
country, there did not exist the least probability that this 
vital want would be in any degree relieved. For a long 
time the safety of the army, without bayonets or powder, 
depended upon the enemy's ignorance of their destitution 
About the middle of August, General Washington ad 



ORDERS OF RETALIATION. 19 

dressed to Lieutenant-General Gage a communication re- 
monstrating against the treatment imposed upon prisoners 
in the hands of the British, who were represented as having 
been "thrown indiscriminately into a common jail, ap- 
propriated for felons." This remonstrance was based 
upon the ground that the treatment of prisoners taken in 
open war, does not properly depend upon political con- 
siderations, but upon obligations arising from the rights of 
humanity and the claims of rank, which were declared to 
be universally binding and extensive, except in case of 
retaliation. General Gage, in reply, denied the cruelty 
of treatment, but admitted that military rank was disre- 
garded in the disposition of prisoners, as he acknowledged 
no rank not derived from the king. He declared that by 
the law of the land, the lives of the prisoners were destined 
to the cord; and added some advice as to the political 
duty and personal behaviour of the American general, 
which showed that none of the arrogance of British as- 
sumption had yet been abated. General Washington re- 
plied in a tone of dignified and lofty rebuke, and closed 
the correspondence, with the remark, that if the British 
officers, prisoners of the Americans, received a treatment 
different from that which it had been wished to show them, 
they and their general would remember the cause of it. 
About the same time orders of retaliation were issued by 
General Washington ; but his far-sighted wisdom and vir- 
tue soon controlled this natural feeling. The orders were 
in a few days revoked ; and the prisoners directed to be 
treated with "every indulgence and civility." It was 
emmently honourable to the intelligence and good feeling 
of Washiifgton, that he was never at any time induced to 
adopt the system of retaliatory treatment of prisoners. 
When Congress at a later period, in the case of General. 
Lee, were disposed to such a measure, his earnest and un- 
answerable expostulation was interposed. 



20 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

The most imminent danger, however, to the American 
cause, lay in the approaching departure of the troops, at 
the expiration of their brief period of enlistment. In view 
of the danger, and of the importance of reviving the spirits 
of the country, and justifying the confidence that had been 
placed in him, General Washington was very strongly in- 
clined to attempt an assault upon the city. On the 8th of 
September, he submitted his opinion, and a plan, to a 
council of war; but it was unanimously deemed inexpe- 
dient. On the 18th of the following month, he renewed 
his suggestion to another council, and it was again over- 
ruled. When the ditliculties arising from the disorgani- 
zation of the army a few months later had fully displayed 
themselves, General Washington seems to have regretted 
that he did not, at an early period, act upon his own inde- 
pendent judgment. His opinion of the feasibility of the 
plan, continued to be unchanged. " Could I have fore- 
seen the difficulties which have come upon us," said he 
in a letter to Colonel Reed, dated January 14, 1776, 
*< could I have known that such a backwardness would 
have been discovered in the old soldiers of the service, all 
the generals upon earth should not have convinced me of 
the propriety of delaying an attack upon Boston till this 
time. When it can now be attempted, I will not under- 
take to say ; but this much I will answer for, that no op- 
portunity can present itself earlier than my wishes." In 
reply to an inquiry in regard to the bombardment of the 
city, addressed by General Washington to a committee of 
Congress in camp, and by them referred to Congress, it 
was resolved by that body, on December 22d, that if the 
general and his officers should be of opinion that a success- 
ful attack could be made upon Boston, he might do it in 
any manner he thought fit, notwithstanding the town and 
property in it might be destroyed ; and John Hancock, in 
communicating this resolution lo Washington, added, 



HIS DEVOTED ENTHUSIASM. 21 

"may God crown your attempt with success. I most 
heartily wish it, though by it I may be the greatest suf- 
ferer." 

None of the troops before Boston were engaged to serve 
beyond the end of December, 1775, and the Connecticut 
and Rhode Island troops only until the first of that month. 
To aid in the establishment of a new army, a committee 
of three, at the urgent request of Washington, had been 
appointed by Congress on the 29th of September, to con- 
fer with the commander-in-chief at camp, and the autho- 
rities of the New England states. The committee con- 
sisted of Franklin, Lynch and Harrison ; and they arrived 
at headquarters on the 18th of October. The plan being 
digested, the greater difficulty remained of inducing the 
soldiers to consent to re-enlistment. The ardour of ex 
citement had declined, or the interest of novelty worn off, 
or the fatigues and privations of the field in winter were 
too severely felt ; and the utmost disinclination to continue 
was exhibited by the soldiers. To counteract this, little 
existed but the exhortations, the advice, the remonstrances, 
of the commander-in-chief. He gave himself to the task 
with devoted enthusiasm and perseverance ; and at no pe- 
riod does Washington appear so great ; at no period did 
he sustain such a weight of diversified public cares and 
labours, as at this era. At one time, when the old enlist- 
ments had expired, and before the new ones had come 
fully into action, the American force was reduced to nine 
thousand and six hundred men. It was a period of intense 
responsibility, anxiety, and toil to Washington; yet his 
security in relation to the enemy required that his condition 
should be concealed ; but the country murmured at his in- 
action. "The reflection on my situation and that of this 
army," he writes, on the 14th of January, 1776, "pro- 
duces many an unhappy hour when all around me are 
wrapped in sleep. Few people know the predicament we 
are in, on a thousand accounts ; fewer still will believe, if 



22 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

any disaster happens to these lines, from what cause it 
flows. I have often thought how much happier I should 
have been, if, instead of accepting the command under 
such circumstances, I had taken my musket on my shoulder, 
and entered the ranks ; or, if I could have justified the 
measure to posterity and my own conscience, had roiirtMl 
to the back country and lived in a wigwam." A little 
earlier, he wrote, " It is e;ij;ier to conceive than to describe 
the situation of my mind for some time past, and my feel- 
ings under our present circumstances. Search the vast 
volumes of history through, and I much question whether 
a case similar to ours can be found ; to wit, to maintain a 
post against the flower of the British troops for six months 

together, without * and at the end of them to have 

our army disbanded, and another to raise, within the same 
distance of a reinforced enemy."t Either from mistake, or 
from another cause, the enlistments in the new army, in- 
stead of being made for the war, were for one year, unless 
sooner dismissed by Congress. The consequences of this 
error were well nigh fatal, when, in December of the fol- 
lowing year, Washington was flying before Cornwallis, in 
New Jersey, and the army was on the eve of political dis- 
solution, while its military existence hung by a thread. 
The active and enterprising mind of the commander-in-chief, 
however, had not been engrossed by his own present con- 
cerns, or his schemes limited to a single position. The 
expedition against Quebec, designed to take advantage of 
the diversion produced by the movements of General 
Schuyler by the order of Congress against Montreal and 
St. Johns, was planned in the autumn of 1775, by the 
commander-in-chief; and is one of the finest movements of 



• Left blank in tlie original, for fear of the miscarriage of the letter 
The wonl, no doubt, intcndoil to he supplied, was powder or aminuiiifion. 

t Tiiis is from the orisjiiwl, recetitly published in the life of General 
Keod, vol. j. p. 141. It differs from the version given in Marshall's Life of 
Washington, vol. i. p. 39. and in iSparks's Washington, vol. iii. p. 225 
^hich was from the letter books. 



HIS ANXIETY TO ATTACK BOSTON. 23 

his military genius. The heroic march of Arnold, the 
commander of the expedition, to Quebec; the junction 
with him at that place, effected by Montgomery, after 
having captured Montreiil ; the night attack upon Quebec, 
and its failure, will be related in other parts of this work. 
The object of the expedition was not realized, but the evi- 
dence afforded by it of the genius, and sagacity, and daring 
of Washington, reinams unimpaired by the result. In addi 
tion, also, to other labours, Washington gave much atten 
tion to the formation of a marine, which proved to be of 
the utmost service. 

On the 1st of October, 1775, General Gage was re- 
called, and General Howe succeeded him as commander- 
in-chief. About the middle of December, it became 
known that an expedition was preparing in the British 
fleet, at i3oston, but for what service it was designed was 
not ascertained. Intelligence was immediately despatched 
by the commander-in-chief to the authorities at Rhode 
Island and New York, which seemed likely to be points 
intended to be attacked. Soon after. General Lee, at the 
request of Governor Cooke, of Rhode Island, was de- 
spatched to Newport, with his guard and a party of rille- 
men, to take measures for counteracting the disaffection 
of that place. He returned after a few days, and, on the 
11th of January, 177G. was again despatched, with orders 
to raise volunteers along his route, and provide for the 
defence of New York, the danger and the value of which 
were keenly felt by the commander-in-chief. It turned 
out, however, that the naval expedition was not intended 
for New York, but for North Carolina, whither it sailed, 
with several regiments, under the command of General 
Clinton. 

The anxiety of General Washington to strike a decisive 
blow against Boston continued unabated. On the 16th 
of January, he again urged the necessity of such an at- 
tempt, and the probability of its success, upon a council 



24 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

of war, who were of opinion that the time for this step 
had not yet arrived. In the following month, the pros- 
pects of the American array had somewhat improved. A 
considera'ble body of militia from Massachusetts had as- 
sembled, and troops raised by Congress from Pennsylvania 
and Maryland had arrived, increasing the whole regular 
force to above fourteen thousand men. A supply of pow- 
der also had been received. TowarcTs the close of Febru- 
ary, appearances indicated an intention on the part of 
General Howe to evacuate Boston. Washington renewed 
his effort to induce a council of officers to sanction his de- 
sign of an assault ; but, to his great mortification and dis- 
appointment, it was again declined. It was determined, 
however, that more decisive operations should at once be 
undertaken. Accordingly, for the purpose of compelling 
either a decisive action or the abandonment of the town, 
possession was taken of Dorchester Heights,- by two thou- 
sand men, under General Thomas, on the night of March 
4th, 1776 ; a violent cannonade and bombardment having 
been kept up the two previous nights from Cobble Hill 
and Roxbury, to divert the enemy's attention from the real 
object, and to harass them. Before morning, the men 
had with great industry thrown up such works on Dorches- 
ter Heights, that they were protected from the fire of the 
town. Ground was broken soon after on Nook's Hill, a 
northern spur of the Heights. The greater part of Boston, 
and the harbour, being thus commanded by the American 
position, it was obvious that this force must be dislodged, 
or the town abandoned. A detachment of three thousand 
men, under the command of Lord Percy, was despatched, 
on the afternoon of the 5ih, for the purpose of carrying the 
Heights ; but, owing to the state of the tide, not more 
than one thousand were able to embark, in six transports, 
and these falling down towards the castle, were driven on 
shore by a violent storm, and the attempt was not renewed. 
Preparations had been made for an assault on the west 



BRITISH EVACUATE BOSTON. 25 

side of the town, with four thousand men, if there had 
been a serious attack by the British on Dorchester Heights. 
All farther hope of maintaining his position in Boston was 
now abandoned by General Howe ; and he prepared for a 
precipitate evacuation. His departure was characterized 
with all the haste and tumult of a flight. On the 17th of 
March, 1776, the city was abandoned ; and in a few days 
the whole fleet, of seventy-eight vessels, carrying eleven 
thousand men, including sailors and one thousand refugees, 
sailed out of Nantucket road for Halifax. The same day, 
General Putnam took possession of Boston ; and, on the 
l8th, the commander-in-chief entered. This event was 
hailed with the utmost enthusiasm throughout the whole 
country. A vote of thanks was passed by Congress to the 
general and the army, " for their wise and spirited con- 
duct in the siege and acquisition of Boston ;" and a gold 
medal ordered to be struck, having on one side a view of 
the general and his staflT, surveying the departure of the 
enemy's fleet from Boston, and the motto, " Hostibus 
primo fugatis." 

Though it was known that the immediate destination ol 
the fleet was Halifax, Washington had no doubt that New 
York was to be the next place of attack. A portion of 
the American troops were accordingly moved to the south, 
before the fleet had left the road ; as soon as they had ac- 
tually put to sea, Washington himself set out, and arrived 
in New York on the l3th -of April : and orders were issued 
to concentrate the whole force at that place ; which was 
eflected a few days after. Shortly after, the general 
visited Philadelphia, for the purpose of a personal inter- 
view with Congress, and was absent about a fortnight. 
On the 28th of June, General Howe, with a part of his 
fleet, appeared off Sandy Hook ; the residue followed in a 
few days, and the British headquarters were established at 
Staten Island, where it was intended to wait for reinforce- 
ments, which were expected under Lord Howe. th« 

Vol. 1 S 



26 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

brother of General Howe, who was also invested witn 
powers as a commissioner to treat with the colonies. His 
arrival did not take place until the middle of July : mean- 
while the Declaration of Independence had been published, 
and all schemes of that kind were for ever concluded. 
Lord Howe attempted to open communications with 
General Washington, by sending a letter with a flag, but, 
with singular imbecility of judgment, defeated its design 
by refusing to recognise the official station and rank of the 
commander-in-chief. The resentment of the country and 
of Congress was quickened by this injudicious arrogance 
of one who had professed to come with offers of recon- 
ciliation, and the possibility of an accommodation was 
less than ever. 

By the middle of August, 1776, all the reinforcements 
expected from England — making the whole force about 
twenty-five thousand men — had arrived ; and it was ob- 
vious that the fate of New York was speedily to be de- 
cided. Even after the arrival of the troops from Pennsyl- 
vania, Delaware, and Maryland, the rank and file of 
Washington's array did not amount to eight thousand men 
present and fit for duty. A body of militia, chiefly from 
New York and Connecticut, raised the number of the 
American force to about double that amount. Of these 
forces, one brigade was at Brooklyn, where an extensive 
camp had been laid out and strongly fortified, towards the 
main part of the island, by works erected by General 
Greene, and, on the water side, defended by batteries at 
Red Hook and Governor's Island. The principal portion 
of the army was on the island of New York, where a fort, 
at the north part of the island, and opposite to Fort Lee, 
called Fort Washington, had been erected, and was 
rapidly strengthening. Efforts to obstruct the passage of 
the river, between these forts, had been made. At King's 
Bridge, where a body of three thousand New York militia, 
under General George Clinton, were asse:nblt,d, the 



BATTLE ON LONG ISLAND. 27 

grounds were strongly fortified. Redoubts were thrown 
up in various places ; batteries erected along the North 
and East rivers, and every arrangement for defence, that 
the case allowed of, was made. 

In directing the erection of works at Brooklyn, General 
Washington had probably from an early period anticipated 
what actually took place — that the attack upon New York 
would be made across Long Island. Towards the close 
of August, the probability of this course being adopted 
having become much stronger, General Sullivan, who had 
succeeded General Greene in the command, the latter 
having become ill with a fever, was strongly reinforced. 
On the morning of the 22d of August, the principal part 
of the British army landed, under the command of General 
Clinton, between the Narrows and Sandy Hook, and took 
up a position, extending through Utrecht and Gravesend, 
from the Narrows to the village of Flatbush. On the 25th, 
General Putnam was ordered to take the command at 
Brooklyn, and a reinforcement of six regiments was sent 
there. On the 26th, General Washington passed the day 
at Brooklyn, giving directions, and enforcing upon all the 
necessity of vigilance and enterprise ; in the evening he 
returned to New York, at a very early hour. On the 27th, 
the engagement began. The American position, it has 
been stated, consisted of an entrenched camp, behind 
Brooklyn, or a line of redoubts extending across the pe- 
ninsula along the high' ground, from Wallabout Bay, on 
the East river, on the left, to a deep marsh beside a creek, 
near Governor's Cove, on the right. Between the two 
armies extended a range of thickly wooded hills. The 
British centre, composed of Hessians, under De Hiester. 
w-as at Flatbush, about four miles from the American lines, 
and communicating with Brooklyn by two roads, one di- 
rectly across the heights, and the other somewhat more 
circuitous, through the village of Bedford, on the Brooklyn 
side. The left was under General Grant, near the Nar- 



28 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

rows, about five miles distant, connecting with Brooklyn 
by a road along the coast, by Governor's Cove. The 
right, under General Clinton, with whom were Earl Percy 
and Lord Cornwallis, about nine at night, on the 26lh, moved 
silently by a circuitous route into the road leading from 
Jamaica to Bedford, The coast road, and the road be- 
tween Flatbush and Bedford, had been strongly guarded 
by detachments, and on the hills; on the direct road from 
Flatbush, a fort had been constructed by the Americans, 
but, on the Jamaica road, only a few slight patrols were 
stationed, and the pass on the heights was wholly unoccu- 
pied. This neglect, on the part of General Putnam, who, 
b}'^ written instructions from the commander-in-chief, on 
the 25th, had been directed to guard the roads between 
the camps with his best troops, was the cause of the dis- 
aster which resulted. At about three o'clock in the 
morning, intelligence was brought that Grant was in 
motion, on the coast road. Lord Stirling was directed to 
advance against him, and General Sullivan against the 
centre, at Flatbush. These detachments were reinforced 
during the morning, and the contest went on with the 
greatest spirit. Meanwhile Clinton, who, by his move- 
ment to the extreme right, had reached and seized the 
pass upon the Jamaica road, captured the patrols, having 
completely outflanked the American army, and, about day- 
break, was in full march to take them in the rear. About 
nine o'clock, Clinton had reached Bedford, and Sullivan, 
engaged with De Hiester in front, found himself hopelessly 
surrounded ; his men retreated, skirmishing with great ob- 
stinacy and spirit, which, owing to the irregular nature of 
the ground, they were able to do with great effect, but he 
himself was captured. Lord Stirling, taken in the rear by 
a detachment under Lord Cornwallis, met with the same 
fate ; and the discomfiture of the American army was 
complete. In this engagement, the American force 
aroo»-^':''c'. to about five thousand, and the British to fifteen 



HIS INEXPRESSIBLE ANGUISH. 29 

thousand, with an excellent artillery. The American loss 
amounted to about twelve hundred ; of whom nearly 
eleven hundred were made prisoners. The British loss 
was twenty-one officers, and three hundred and forty-six 
soldiers, killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. Nothing 
but the excessive caution of General Howe prevented the 
camp at Brooklyn being attacked and perhaps carried by 
his victorious army. The American troops, especially 
those under Lord Stirling, comprising Shee's Pennsyl- 
vania, Haslett's Delaware, and Sraallwood's Maryland 
regiments, were admitted to have behaved with the utmost 
gallantry. General Washington crossed over to the camp 
at Brooklyn, when the engagement became warm ; and is 
said to have beheld with " inexpressible anguish"* the 
overthrow and destruction of his best troops. The loss, 
however, proved far less than was reasonably to have been 
expected. General Washington seems, during the 27th, 
to have intended to risk another engagement at the camp ; 
and for that purpose orders were sent to Mifflin, at King's 
Bridge, to repair with some Pennsylvania troops to Brook- 
lyn ; but, on the evening of that day, it became evident 
that the enemy intended to rely upon regular approaches, 
with the aid of the fleet, and not to hazard an assault upon 
the works. 

The 28th passed without important occurrences ; a heavy 
rain operating nearly to suspend all action on either side. 
On the 29th a heavy fog prevailed, but a sudden change 
in the wund revealed the British fleet at anchor ofT Staten 
Island, preparing evidently to take advantage of a breeze, 
which if it continued, would enable them to come up into 
the East river, and cut off all communication with the 
opposite shore. Nothing remained but to take the most 
immediate measures for removing the American troops 
from Long Island. Fortunately the fog continued during 

• The expressdon of the judicial historian, who rarely used intensities. 
3* 



30 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

the night. The embarkation began in the evening, and 
before the proceeding was discovered on the following 
morning, all the troops, amounting to nine thousand, the 
military stores, provisions, and all the artillery, except a 
fevi^ heavy pieces which could not be dragged through the 
muddy roads, were safely carried over. The van-guard 
were crossing the East river, but were out of reach of 
fear before the movement was known. General Washing- 
ton remained at the ferry the whole night, superintending 
and aiding the embarkation. The covering party, con- 
sisting of Pennsylvania, and the remnants of the Maryland 
and Delaware troops, was under the command of General 
Mifflin, A narrative, written by Colonel Edward Hand, 
of the Pennsylvania brigade, and recently published, pre- 
sents the following incident as one of the occurrences of 
that night: "Orders had been delivered, about two 
o'clock in the morning, to General Mifflin, by Alexander 
Scammell, one of the aids-de-camp of the commander-in- 
chief, stating that the boats were ready, and the com- 
mander-in-chief anxious that the troops should arrive at 
the ferry. The order being reiterated with great confi- 
dence, as directly from Washington himself. General Mif- 
flin put his troops in motion. "I had not gone far," says 
Colonel Hand, who was commanding under Mifflin, "be- 
fore I perceived the front had halted, and hastening to 
inquire the cause, I met the commander-in-chief, who per- 
ceived me and said, 'Is not that Colonel Hand."" I 
answered in the affirmative. His excellency said he was 
surpnsed at me in particular, that he did not expect I 
would have abandoned my post. I answered that I had 
not abandoned it, that I had marched by order of my im- 
mediate commanding officer. He said it was impossible. 
I ^old him I hoped, if I could satisfy him I had the 
orders of General Mifflin, he would not think me par- 
ticularly to blame. He said he undoubtedly would not. 
General Mifflin just then coming up, and asking what the 



UNSUCCESSFUL NEGOTIATIONS. 31 

matter was, his excellency said, 'Good God! General 
Mifflin, I am afraid you have ruined us, by so unseason- 
ably withdrawing the troops from the lines.' General 
Mifflin replied with some warmth, < I did it by your 
orfier.' His excellency declared it could not be. Gene- 
ral Mifflin swore, ' by God, I did!' and asked, 'did Scam- 
meil act as an aid-de-carap for the day, or did he not?' 
His excellency acknowledged he did. « Then,' said Mif- 
flin, <I had orders through him.' The general replied it 
was a dreadful mistake, and informed him that matters 
were in much confusion at the ferry, and unless we could 
resume our posts before the enemy discovered we had left 
them, in all probability the most disagreeable consequences 
would follow. We immediately returned, and had the 
good fortune to recover our former stations, and keep them 
• for some hours longer without the enemy perceiving what 
was going forward." 

The retreat from Long Island is one of the most brilliant 
achievements recorded in military history. But the effect 
the whole series of occurrences during the last few days 
produced throughout the community, was a discouragement 
amounting almost to dismay. The British fleet now com- 
manded the East river, and it was obvious to all expe- 
rienced observers that New York must be evacuated ; but 
there being some opinions strongly in favour of maintain- 
ing possession, it was but partially abandoned. The Bri- 
tish continued inactive during the next fortnight, in conse- 
quence of the attempt at negotiation, on Staten Island, 
between Lord Howe and the envoys of Congress, Franklin, 
Adams, and Rutledge ; an undertaking which proved 
wholly abortive. On the 15th of September, three ships 
of war passed up the North river, as far as Blooraingdale. 
On the same day, Sir Henry Clinton landed at Kip's bay, 
on the East river, about three miles above New York, 
with four thousand men, under cover of a fire from a de- 
tachment of the fleet. Arrangements had been made for a 



32 G E O R G r \V A S H I N G T O N, 

spirited resistance at this point, where some woiks had 
been constructed ; but the disorderly and precipitate retreat 
of Parsons's and Fellows's Connecticut brigades of militia, 
who had been ordered to support the troops in the lines, 
defeated this design. The flight of the militia communi- 
cated a panic to the regular troops within the works ; and 
Washington, who was advancing to direct the defence in 
person, had the mortification to find the whole force in 
rapid and shameful retreat. He exposed himself with the 
utmost intrepidity, in the hope of rallying the courage of 
the troops, but in vain. Owing to the failure of this part 
of the plan, the division in New York, under General Put- 
nam, was obliged to retire hurriedly, and with the loss of 
all the heavy artillery, and a large quantity of provisions 
rnd military stores, and a small loss of men in a skirmish 
at Bloomingdale. The forces were all drawn into the 
lines on the heights at Haerlem. King's Bridge, which 
had been strongly fortified. Mount Washington, and an en- 
trenched position on Haerlem heights, about a mile and a 
half from the British lines, were the strongest points on 
the American side. On the 16ih of September, the day 
after the evacuation, a considerable force of British ap- 
peared in the plain between the armies, and a spirited ac- 
tion, commanded chiefly by Colonel Knowlton and Major 
Leitch, but in which Generals Putnam and Greene and 
many other officers participated, took place, in which the 
British were gallantly repulsed. This slight affair had a 
great effect in reviving the spirits of the army. 

The first plan attempted by Sir William Howe — for the 
honour of knighthood had been conferred on him in con- 
sequence of his success on Long Island — was to take the 
American army in the rear. On the 9th of October, some 
vessels were sent up the Hudson, which succeeded in 
passing the forts and breaking through all the obstructions 
in the river. On the 12th, a landing was effected at 
Frog's Point, on the sound, above Hell Gate. Afterwards 



SURRENDER Ol<" FORT WASHINGTON. 33 

Ihis force was re-embarked, and landed again at Pell's 
Point, and moved towards New Rochelle. To prevent 
being oulflanked, the American army was moved up the 
river, its left extending to White Plains, beyond the Bri- 
tish right. Fort Washington, it was resolved in council, 
should be retained as long as possible, and two thousanc 
men were left for that purpose. The armies continued to 
mancEUvre near one another, with great caution, occasional 
engagements taking place between detached parties, until 
the American army was gradually concentrated and en- 
trenched at White Plains. On the 28th of October, the 
British army came before the camp, and a height called 
Chatterton's Hill, was the scene of a short engagement 
which resulted favourably to the British. Sir William 
Howe did not pursue the advantage, but awaited the ar- 
'rival of reinforcements from Earl Percy, then at Haerlera. 
On the arrival of these, at the entl of two days, an attack 
was expected ; but a heavy rain on the 31 st, caused it to 
be again deferred. On the same nisht Washinafton with- 
drew to a still higher and more impregnable position on 
the hills ; and an attack having become hopeless. Sir Wil- 
liam Howe withdrew his army, and descended the river- 
It was with little dithculty anticipated, that an attack on 
Fort Washington, and an advance into the Jerseys, was 
the principal design now contemplated by the British. 
After the fleet had sailed past this fort. General Washing- 
ton had intimated to General Greene, whose headquarters 
were at Fort Lee, that the preservation of Fort Washing- 
ton had ceased to beTJesirable, and that it had become a 
hazardous repository for the military stores. Greene's 
opinion was confident, that it might be maintained. It 
was assaulted violently on the 16th of November, and, as 
is well known, was surrendered with two thousand men. 
This was one of the severest blows the American cause 
had yet met with, and it gave rise to much animated con- 
troversy. It appears to be clear, that General Greene was 

C 



34 GEORGE WASHINGTON, 

responsiLIe for the event. But General Greene continued 
to the end of his life to be confident in the correctness of 
the advice which he had given, and to maintain that the 
fault was in the garrison, which became seized with unwar- 
rantable panic, and that if it had done its duty, the place 
would have been saved. The great abilities and expe- 
rience of General Greene, as well as the candour of his 
mind, induce great confidence in an opinion thus maturely 
and confidently expressed by him ; and the better conclu- 
sion appears to be, that none of the general officers were 
in fault, but that the misbehaviour and cowardice of the 
garrison, who surrendered at the first summons, was the 
cause of the calamity. The loss of Fort Washington ren- 
dered Fort Lee untenable ; and the removal of the stores 
from it commenced on the 18th. Meanwhile, Lord Corn- 
wall'.s, with a force of ten thousand men, had crossed the 
North river below Dobbs's Ferry, and was endeavouring 
by a rapid march to enclose the army between that river 
and the Hackensac. General Washington, abandoning 
the remaining stores and artillery at Fort Lee, made a 
hasty retreat behind the Hackensac. The Passaic pre- 
sented the same danger which he had just escaped, and he 
crossed it and retired to Newark. Lord Cornwallis con- 
tinuing to advance, Washington left that town and conti- 
nued his retreat through EUzabethtown, New Brunswick, 
and Princeton, to Trenton, where he arrived about the end 
of December. He crossed the river on the 8th, and having 
secured the boats, and guarded the banks from Coryell's 
Ferry to Bristol, he prepared to iii^intain his position on 
the right bank of that river. The British occupied suc- 
cessively, Princeton, Trenton, Burlington, and Mount 
Holly, but exhibited no disposition as yet to pass the Dela- 
ware. The force under Washington, fit for duty, was 
abour three thousand men. 

This was the darkest period in the history of the Revo 
Jution. The fatal effects of the brief term of ^.rlistment 



INVESTED WITH DICTATORIAL POWER. 35 

adopted the year before at Cambridge, were now felt. At 
the noment when the utmost force was needed, the armj 
was melting away into nothingness. Proclamation of pardon 
had been made by Lord and Sir William Howe, jointly, 
and the period expiring about the end of the year, many 
persons of distinction, especially at Philadelphia, had given 
in their pledge of allegiance. Every thing seemed to be 
yielding, except the indomitable mind of Washington. 
He was asked what he would do if Philadelphia should be 
taken, and his reply was, '<we will retreat beyond the 
Susquehanna river, and then, if necessary, beyond the Al- 
leghany mountains." On the 20ih of December, he ad- 
dressed a letter to Congress demanding one hundred and 
ten new battalions, and exposing, with the keenest vigour 
of argument, the folly of the jealous and short-sighted po- 
■ iicy that had been previously adopted. Congress, at this 
immediate presence of danger, suspended its apprehensions 
of an abuse of power, and responded fully to his appeal, 
inveslincr him for six months with powers almost dictato- 
rial. He was joined about this time, by Lee's division, 
and the regiments from Ticonderoga, and some excellent 
volunteer troops from Philadelphia and its neighbourhood. 
The first city troop, under command of Captain Samuel 
Morris, rendered important service. 

At this season of gloom, the giant blow which retrieved 
the fortunes of America, and gave hope and energy to the 
patriotism of the country," was contrived in the fertile mind, 
and dealt by the powerful arm, of the commander-in-chief 
himself. A day or two before Christmas, 1776, orders 
were secretly issued for a simultaneous attack upon the 
British posts on the left of the Delaware. Washington 
was to cross the river a litde above Trenton ; General Ir- 
vine was to cross at Trenton Ferry, a little below ; while 
Cadwalader, from Bristol, was to cross at Dunk's Ferry, 
and fall upon the detachments under Count Donop, at 
Mount Holly, Bordentown, Burlinglon, and the Black 



36 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Horse. The night of the 25th was fixed on for the attack 
The troops under Washington began to cross at McConky's 
Ferry, nine miles above Trenton, about sunset, but the 
darkness, the ice, and the force of the current, and a high 
wind, retarded the operation so much, that it was four 
o'clock in the morning before the troops were formed on 
the other side, when it began to hail and snow. They 
were divided into two columns ; the left commanded by 
Washington in person, and accompanied by Lord Stirling, 
and Generals Greene and Mercer, was to go by the Pen- 
nington road, and advance into the town by King's, now 
Greene, street; the right, under Sullivan, with St. Clair's 
brigade, was to keep along the river road, and enter the 
town by Water street, with directions to halt at the edge 
of the town till they heard that the party on the left were 
engaged. About eight o'clock in the morning, the enemy 
were driven in on all sides, and after some random firing 
endeavoured to form on the Main street, but a six-gun 
battery under Captain Forest, directed by Washington in 
person, who pointed out the objects of aim, at the head of 
King street, played with great effect. Captain William 
Washington, and Lieutenant James Monroe, at the head 
of the advanced guard of their column, perceiving that the 
enemy attempted to form a battery, rushed in upon them, 
drove the artillerists from their guns, and captured two 
pieces in the act of firing. Meantime, Sullivan and his 
column were advancing on the enemy's left, and it was 
evident that farther resistance was in vain. A troop of 
dragoons, with about five hundred infantry, escaped across 
the Assanpink, and took the road to Bordentown; and th« 
main body made a movement by their right, up the Assan- 
pink, with a view of escaping to Princeton, but Washing- 
ton immediately threw the rifle corps under Colonel Hand 
in the way to intercept them. Finding themselves sur- 
rounded, the force was surrendered at discretion. In this 
affair, twenty-three officers and one thousand men were 



EFFECT OF THE BATTLE OF TRENTON. 37 

made prisoners, and about fifty of the enemy killed; Colo- 
nel Rahl, the Hessian officer in command, was shot from 
his horse, and afterward died of his wounds. The Ame 
rican loss consisted of two killed, four wounded, and one 
frozen to death. The detachments under Irvine and Cad- 
walader were not able to effect their passage. Had they 
done so, there can be no doubt that the whole force to the 
south of Trenton must have been captured. They retreated 
at once to Princeton. Washington having" secured his 
prisoners, recrossed the Delaware the same day, but re- 
turned on the 30th of December, and took up his quarters 
at Trenton. The effect of this brilliant achievement upon 
the country was electric. One deep impression of grati- 
tude and confidence thrilled through the nation. 

At this moment the term of enlistment of the old army, 
of which several regiments were with Washington, ex- 
pired ; and it required all the exertions of the officers, and 
a considerable bounty, to induce them to remain for six 
weeks longer. When intelligence of the affair at Trenton 
reached New York, Cornwallis was immediately directed 
to take command in the Jerseys, -and he hastened at once 
to Princeton, and prepared to advance against Washington 
at Trenton. On the morning of January 6th, they began 
to move from Princeton. Washington had posted detach- 
ments along the road with directions to skirmish, and de- 
lay the enemy as long as possible. The head of the ene- 
my's columns reached Trfenton about four o'clock in the 
afternoon, when the American army took position on the 
high ground beyond the Assaupink, and kept up a sharp 
cannonade at the bridge and fords which the enemy at 
tempted to pass. Cornwallis, with very superior numbers, 
determined to defer the attack until the morning ; certain 
that his foe was at last within his power. Washington 
had seemed to be in a false position ; but his resources 
were not easily exhausted. A council of war was held at 
St. Clair's quarters in the evening, and it was there deter- 

VoL. I, 4 



38 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

miried^ it is said upon St. Clair's suggestion, to move off 
in the .)ight, pa^s the enemy's left, and fall upon their rear 
at Princeton. Accordingly the baggage was sent off to 
Burlington, a fatigue party set to work on the entrench- 
ments, within hearing of the enemy's sentinels, the guards 
doubled, with directions to use the neighbouring fences 
for fuel, and keep up blazing fires till the morning, when 
they were to retire ; and meantime the troops silently filed 
off by detachments, and moved towards Princeton. A 
little after sunrise the advanced corps under General Mer- 
cer encountered a brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel 
Mawhood, consisting of the 17th, 40th and 55th regiments, 
at Stoney Brook, on their march to Trenton. A severe 
conflict ensued between the 17th and the Americans under 
Mercer, who being reinforced by Washington, in a short 
time broke and dispersed that regiment ; and the 55th and 
40th retreated to Brunswick. The British lost one hun- 
dred killed, and three hundred prisoners ; but the loss of 
Mercer, who was mortally wounded, and of several other 
officers of great bravery and merit who were killed on the 
field, attested the severity of the conflict. The departure 
of the Americans from Trenton was discovered at daylight ; 
and soon after the firing at Princeton was heard. Lord 
Cornwallis, alarmed for the safety of his stores at Bruns- 
wick, at once retreated, and his advanced guard entered 
Princeton as Washington's rear was leaving it. The latter 
pursued the fugitive regiments as far as Kingston; and 
nothing but the want of a few fresh troops prevented his 
falling upon Brunswick before it could be relieved. As 
it was he turned off to Pluckamin, which he reached 
that evening, and after the troops were refreshed, moved 
to Morristown, where winter quarters were established 
The difficulty of access to the enemy, and the abundant 
supplies to be obtained from the country in the rear, re- 
commended this place for the purpose. Detachments 
were constantly sent out to beat up the enemy, and in a 



HIS MILITARY RENOWN. , 39 

hort time, the only posts ia New Jersey, in possession of 
ihe British, were Brunswick and Amboy, both of which 
communicated directly with New York by water. Such 
was the brilliant change in the situation of the Americans 
between the 26lh of December, when Washington first 
crossed to Trenton, and the 6th of January, when, having 
driven the enemy from New Jersey, he entered Morris- 
town. Such achievements raised the military renown of 
their author to the highest pitch, and kindled the confidence 
of his countrymen into enthusiasm. 

No general operations again took place in the field until 
the 13th of June, when Sir William Howe, at the head of 
the British army, advanced from Brunswick, and took 
position between that place and Millstone, and behind the 
Raritan. The object was to invite an attack, but Wash- 
ington declinino" the disadvantatreous offer, the British, 
after about six days, broke up, and soon after evacuated 
Brunswick, and retired to Amboy, their rear being followed 
by three regiments, under General Greene, and suffering 
considerable loss. Some manoeuvring between the ad- 
verse generals took place, without effect, and Sir William 
Howe crossed to Staten Island, and abandoned the Jer- 
seys. Preparations at New York for an expedition by sea 
had been going on for some time, and when intelligence 
arrived of Burgoyne's advance into the state, it was sup- 
posed that Howe intended to sail up the Hudson and effect 
a junction with him. Other indications suggested Phila- 
delphia as the place to which Sir William's attention was 
directed. All conjectures were terminated by the appear- 
ance of the fleet off the capes of Delaware, in July, and 
the American army was marched to Germantown. The 
fleet, however, again disappeared, and nothing was known 
of its destination until it entered the Chesapeake, when 
the design on Philadelphia became certain. On the 25th 
of August, the British army landed at the head of the Elk. 
Washington took up a position on the high ground on the 



40 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

left bark of Brandywine creek, about Chad's Ford. His 
left, consisting of the Pennsylvania militia, under General 
Armstrong, was about two miles below, and General Sul- 
livan, with the right wing, was posted above ; and the 
fords, as high as the forks of the creek, about six miles 
abov^e, were guarded. On the 10th of September, 1777, 
the British headquarters were at Kennet Square, about 
seven miles from Chad's Ford. At an early hour, a large 
force, U!uler Knyphausen, advanced towards the creek, and 
became engaged with the Americans, but did not attempt 
to cross; a heavy cannonade and a good deal of skirmish- 
ing were kept up during the morning. The event was 
decided by a skilful movement similar to that which was 
executed on Long Island. At daybreak, the larger part 
of the British army moved, under Lord Cornwallis, to 
some fords above the forks, the existence of which was 
not known to the Americans, the peasantry being univer- 
sally disaffected to the continental cause. Intelligence of 
the movement was brought to Washington, and, with con- 
summate judgment and decision, he immediately ordered 
the whole army to cross the creek. While this movement 
was being executed, counter information arrived, staling 
that the first report had been a mistake, and a halt was 
ordered, to wait for more certain intelligence. The delay 
was fatal. About three o'clock, Lord Cornwallis appeared 
in full force upon Sullivan's flank. Arrangements were 
rapidly made to meet and encounter him ; but, before the 
troops could be formed, the British rushed upon them, 
and they were driven from the ground. At the same time 
Knyphausen crossed, and, with vastly superior force, en- 
gaged with General Wayne. General Greene, at the head 
of a division, covered the retreat, and checked the pursuit, 
by a succession of spirited engagements till dark, when the 
Americans retreated in much disorder to Chester. The 
British force on this occasion was much the superior ; and 
though the lesult was disastrous, neither the American 



BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 41 

army nor general was dispirited. The day after the 
battle, Washington encamped near Germautown. A scries 
of manoeuvres took place on both sides, but no general 
engagement. Congress moved first to Lancaster, and 
afterwards to Yorktown, and the British entered Philadel- 
phia. The fleet, meanwliiie, came around into the Dela- 
ware ; but an obstinate and prolonged defence was made at 
Fort Mifflin, which, however, was finally taken. 

In the beginning of October, the American army was at 
Skippack creek, about fourteen miles above Germantown. 
The larger part of the British array was in Germantown, 
and the residue in Philadelphia. It appeared to Wash- 
ington a favourable opportunity for a surprise. Accord- 
ingly, on the evening of the 3(1 of October, the army was 
divided into four columns, which were to enter the town 
in different directions. The main attack was to be made 
by Sullivan and Wayne, entering from the north, by the 
main road ; Greene, with Stephens and M'Dougall, was to 
make a detour by the left, and fall upon the right wing; 
while Forrnan and Smallwood, at the head of the Jersey 
and Maryland militia, were to approach by a route still 
farther to the left, and take the right wing in the rear; 
Armstrong, with the Pennsylvania militia, was to de- 
scend along the Schuylkill, and attack the enemy's left. 
About sunrise, Wayne and Sullivan's advanced guard 
drove in the picket at the north of the town, and rushing 
forward with the greatest iinpetuosity, efTected a complete 
surprise ; and after a brief contest, distinguished by the 
especial ardour of the troops under Wayne, drove the 
enemy before them, and pursued them above a mile be- 
yond Chew's house. The victory appeared to be certain, 
when, in the obscurity of a heavy fog which prevailed, 
some mistakes occurred, which checked the course of suc- 
cess. General Armstrong's division coming up on the 
right, was unfortunately taken for a body of the enemy, 

and the men began to retreat ; meanwhil'e a detachment 

4* 



42 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

of the 40th regiment, under Colonel Musgrave which 
had been encamped in a field to the east of Chew's house, 
threw themselves into that building, and commenced a 
heavy fire. The second line of the Americans, which was 
advancing to support General Wayne, was detained by 
this incident, and, instead of pressing forward, it was de- 
termined to attack this building. A parley was beaten, 
which the troops in front, already alarmed by the appear- 
ance of Armstrong's men, and having, in the two hours 
and a half that the pursuit had continued, nearly exhausted 
the forty rounds of ammunition which they took with them 
into the field, mistook for a signal to retreat. They re- 
tired, in disorder, upon the second line ; the whole fell 
into confusion ; Sir William Howe was approaching with 
considerable force ; and the Americans retreated to Skip- 
pack creek, leaving their enemies in possession of the 
field. Yet the moral consequences of a victory remained 
with the Americans. The direct effect of the engagement 
was to shut up Sir William Howe within the city of Phila- 
delphia, and to leave the American camp unmolested 
during the winter ; and, co-operating with the surrendei 
of Burgoyne, which occurred about the same time, it had 
an important influence in determining the court of France 
to the American alliance. 

A few days after the battle of Germantown, Washington 
-encamped at Whitemarsh, about fourteen miles from 
Philadelphia. Great activity in cutting off detached 
foraging parties of the enemy was kept up, but nothing of 
moment occurreii. On the l8th of December, the array 
went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, about twenty 
miles above Philadelphia. This encampment consisted of 
a collection of log-huts, arranged in the form of a regular 
town, with streets ; twelve privates being lodged in a hut. 
The sufferings of the army during this s-.'vere and incle- 
ment winter have been too often described to render a 
repetition in this place desirable. The principal political 



EVACUATION OF PHILADELPHIA. 43 

occurrences of this period, were the exposure of what v^as 
called the Conway cabal, and the arrival of the British 
commissioners, Lord Carlisle, Mr. Eden, Governor John- 
stone, and their secretary. Dr. Adam Ferguson, who 
reached Philadelphia in the spring of 1778. 

On the 2(1 of May, 1778, intelligence of the treaty ot 
amity and defensive alliance between France and the 
United States, which had been signed at Paris, on the 6th 
of February, was received by Congress ; and this occur- 
rence, which placed France and England at open war, 
made an entire change in the plans of the British, and se- 
cured the evacuation of Philadelphia. Sir William Howe 
had been recalled, at his own request, and Sir Henry 
Clinton had succeeded him as commander of his majesty's 
forces in America. The British ministry had resolved to 
make a sudden attack on the French possessions in the 
"West Indies; and, to aid this design, Clinton was directed 
to detach five thousand men from his army, to send another 
corps of three thousand to Florida, and to concentrate the 
remainder at New York. Clinton embarked a part of his 
forces, with the heavy baggage, and provision train, on 
board his fleet, and prepared to march with the bulk of his 
army across New Jersey. Philadelphia was evacuated on 
the I8th of June ; and, as the British army moved down 
Second street, the American advance, under Captain 
M'Lane, entered the city, and fell upon the enemy's rear ; 
and a few days after, General Arnold took possession of 
the city. The British army crossed to Gloucester, and 
marched the same day to Haddonfield. A council of war 
was called by Washington, to decide upon a plan of opera- 
tions. The commander-in-chief, with Greene, Wayne, 
and Cadwalader, were in favour of harassing the enemy 
on their march, and bringing them to a general engage- 
ment, whenever an advantageous opportunity occurred ; 
but the opposite opinion prevailed, chiefly through the in- 
fluence of General Lee, who had recentlv reached head- 



44 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

quarters fifter his exchange ; and it was decided not to seek 
eil'ner a general or a partial engagement. The movements 
of Clinton rendered it doubtful whether he would follow 
the route to Staten Island, crossing the Raritan, or whether 
he would pass through Brunswick to Amboy ; and in this 
uncertainty, Washington moved by a circuitous route to 
Hopewell, about five miles from Princeton, which he 
reached on the 23d of June, and occupied until the 25th; 
Dickinson, with the Jersey militia, and Maxwell, annoying 
the left of the enemy, and Cadwalader and Morgan press- 
ing upon their rear until they reached Allentown. Another 
council was convened by Washington, at which he urged 
the expediency of bringing the enemy to a general engage- 
ment, before they could reach the high ground to the 
north ; his opinion was warmly sustained by Greene, 
Wayne, and Lafayette, but a majority, under the influence 
of General Lee, again decided against any such measure. 
After the council, Colonel Hamilton called on General 
Greene, and induced him to join him in urging the com- 
mander-in-chief to take the responsibility of acting on his 
own judgment. As they approached General Washing- 
ton, who was sitting in his tent, he rose, and said, «< Gen- 
tlemen, I anticipate the object of your visit — you wish me 
to fight." The disgrace of allowing the enemy to march 
off, without an attempt to molest him, was represented ; 
and it was determined by Washington that an attack 
should be made. A detachment of fifteen hundred men, 
under General Scott, of Virginia, was advanced to harass 
the rear and the left flank of the enemy ; another body of 
one thousand w-as sent forward, under General Wayne, in 
the evening, to join this detachment, which now amounted 
to four thousand men, and was pushed forward close upon 
the enemy. It being proper that this force should be 
undtrr the command of a general officer, Lee yielded his 
claim ot seniority, and the command was given to La- 
fayette. This arrangement had no sooner been made, than 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 45 

Lee, sensible of his mistake, desired to resume the privi 
lege which he had resigned. The difficulty was arranged 
by Washington, with his usual delicacy. On the 25th 
and 26th, the enemy moved from Allentown towards 
Monmouth Comt-House, the baggage being thrown in 
front, under Knyphausen's care, the flying army in the 
rear, with n rear guard of one thousand a few hundred 
paces behind the main body — these were under the com- 
mand of Lord Cornwallis, accompanied by Sir Henry 
Clinton. On the morning of the 28th, they were encamped 
in a strong position near Monmouth Court-House. Mean- 
while, on the 25th and 26th, General Washington, with 
the main body of his array, advanced to Cranberry, and 
was detained there during the 26th by a heavy storm. 
Early on the 27th, the advanced corps, under La- 
fayette, moved forward to Englishtown, and the main 
army encamped within three miles of that place. On the 
same day, to relieve the feelings of General Lee, Wash- 
ington sent him forward, with two brigades, to join La- 
fayette, whom of course he would supersede in command, 
but with orders that if any operation had been already 
begun by Lafayette, he was to aid in carrying it out. The 
position of the British at Monmouth during the night of 
the 27th, being covered by a wood in front, a swamp in 
the rear, and woods on both flanks, was quite unassailable; 
and they were within twelve miles of the high grounds 
about Middletown, where they would be safe. Washing- 
ton's plan was to attack them while on their march, and 
as soon .as they were in motion. At about five o'clock on 
Sunday morning, the 28th, intelligence was brought that 
the front of the enemy had begun its march. Lee had 
been ordered, the evening before, to attack the rear as 
soon as it should move from the ground ; and, in the 
morning, fresh orders were sent to him to attack the rear 
"unless there should be powerful reasons to the contrary. " 
He was informed also that the rear division would advance 



46 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

(o his support. Lord Stirling was in command of the left 
wing ; and General Greene, at the head of the right wing, 
had been ordered to file off, and follow a road which 
would bring him upon the enemy's flank and rear, Wash- 
ington, about six miles in the rear, advanced with the 
main body of the army. He had marched about five 
miles, and had just halted his troops, and dismounted for 
a few moments, the day being excessively hot, when, as 
he stood with his arm extended over his large sorrel horse, 
intelligence was brought to him that Lee's whole division, 
consisting of five thousand men, were in full retreat, and 
pursued by the entire force of the enemy. Uttering an 
exc]",mation of amazement and indignation, he sprang 
upon his horse, hastened to the rear of Lee's division, and 
instantly ordered Wayne to renew the combat, directed 
Colonel Oswald to bring up some cannon, and called out, 
with vehemence, to Colonels Ramsay and Stewart, that 
they were the officers on whom he should rely to give the 
enemy a check ; and then, turning to Lee, demanded im- 
patiently the cause of his retreat. He answered, " Sir — 
sir," with hesitation ; stating that the movement was 
owing to contradictory iuformation and misapprehension of 
orders, and that he did not choose to beard the British 
army in that situation, and that, besides, the attack was 
contrary to his opinion. Washington replied, that what- 
ever General Lee's opinions might be, he expected that 
his orders would be obeyed ; and soon after ordered him 
to Englishtown, four miles in the rear, to collect the scat- 
tered troops, and assemble them in that place. The 
measures taken by Washington checked the British so far 
as to give time for the second line of the array to form 
upon an eminence. Meanwhile Lord Stirling, on the left, 
brought some batteries of cannon to bear upon the enemy 
with such effect as to stop their advance in that direction ; 
and General Greene, as soon as he heard of these occur- 
rences, pushed forward to an advantageous positir n on the 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 4T 

right, :ro\vned it with artillery, and opened a severe fire. 
Successive attempts to turn the American left and right flanks 
were repulsed with great bravery ; and Wayne, in the centre, 
advancing with a body of infantry, and delivering a heavy 
fire, the enemy retreated behind the morass, to the ground 
which they had occupied before the engagement. Wash- 
ington, with the most determined ardour, resolved to carry 
their position. General Poor was oi-dered to move upon 
their right, with two brigades, and General Woodford 
upon their left, while Colonel Knox opened upon them 
with his artillery in front; but the obstacles of the road 
prevented these arrangements being effected before it be- 
came dark. It was intended to renew the engagement 
in the morning, and Washington passed the night in his 
cloak, among the soldiers, on the field. During the night, 
however, Clinton silently withdrew towards Sandy Hook, 
leaving his wounded behind. Being beyond the reach of 
attack, Washington moved his army first to Brunswick, 
but, learning that the enemy had landed in New York, he 
marched up for the protection of the Hudson, which he 
crossed at Stony Point, and encamped at White Plains. 

This was in many respects the greatest battle of the Re- 
volution. The arrangements of Washington were made 
with consummate skill ; and nothing but the cowardice, or 
treason, or madness of Lee prevented a signal, perhaps 
conclusive, victory. It is impossible upon a survey of the 
whole conduct of that passionate and irregular officer, from 
the time of the first movement from Philadelphia, to avoid 
the justness of Colonel Hamilton's opinion, that Lee " me- 
ditated the disgrace of the Americans." On the other 
hand, in no scene of the war does Washington a{)pear to 
such advantage. On his fine sorrel horse, and with his spy- 
glass in his hand, he occupied a commanding situation 
within the line of the enemy's fire, after the retreat had 
been checked ; and the whole army was inspired by tne 
firmness, grandeur, and perfect composure of his bearing. 



48 GEORGE WASHINGTOK 

At one time, his position, witii a number of officers around 
him, attracted the particular fire of the enemy. The ma- 
jesty of Washington's appearance was noted by many ob- 
servers on that day. " It was such," said Colonel Wil- 
lett, "as to excite admiration and respect. His noble 
countenance displayed the greatness of his mind ; and his 
whole demeanour was calculated to command veneration. 
I have seen him in a variety of situations, and none in 
which he did not appear great ; but never did I see hira 
when he exhibited such greatness as on this day." 
<' Never was General Washington greater in war than in 
this action," said the Marquis de Lafayette, in a letter to 
Judge Marshall. " His presence stopped the retreat. 
His dispositions fixed the victory. His fine appearance 
on horseback, his calm courage, roused by the animation 
produced by the vexation of the morning, gave him the 
air best calculated to excite enthusiasm." A painter — de- 
sirous to fix, with appropriate dignity, the most heroic ex- 
pression of those great features, the most commanding 
attitude of that august form — could not select a fitter 
moment than that in which he turned in his indignation 
at the reception of the intelligence of Lee's retreat, or that 
in which having checked thetiisaster and issued the orders 
by which the day was retrieved, he sat upon his horse in 
the strength of a great mind's composure, and beheld the 
tide of victory flow back beneath him. 

About the time of these occurrences, the French fleet, 
consisting of twelve ships of the line, and four frigates, ar- 
rived oflTthe capes of the Delaware. One vessel sailed up 
the river, conveying M. Gerard, the first minister from 
France to the United States ; and the rest sailed round to 
Sandy Hook. A combined attack upon New York was 
projected, but found impracticable. Measures were then 
taken for a joint expedition by the Count D'Estaing and 
a body of troops under General Sullivan, against the Bri 
tish garrison of six thousand, at Newport ; but this also 



OPPOSES THE INVASION OF CANADA. 49 

proved abortive, and D'Estaing sailed for Boston, under 
feelings of much irritation, which it required the interpo- 
sition and skill of Washington to allay. Washington con- 
tir^ued during the summer and autumn to observe the Bri- 
tish, who without developing any plan, remained in New 
York, sending out foraging parties who ravaged the neigh- 
bouring country, and occasionally surprised a detachment. 
An attack on Bayler's dragoons, near Tappan, and another 
upon Pulaski's legion, at Egg Harbour, were marked by 
circumstances of peculiar ferocity. In December, the array 
went into winter quarters ; being cantoned along a line be- 
tween Danbury and West Point on the north, and Middle- 
brook to the south, where headquarters were established. 
At this time an invasion of Canada was a favourite project 
with Congress, and a plan for this purpose was submitted by 
that body to Washington, who in an able letter condemned 
the project and exposed its furility. Subsequently, on the 
24th of December, he visited Philadelphia in person, and 
after several interviews on the subject, between himself 
and a committed) of Congress, the project was abandoned. 

On the first of June, 1779, the British squadron, alter 
returning from a predatory attack upon Virginia, sailed up 
ihe North river and captured Stoney Point and Verplank's 
Point; the pf-esence of Washington, and the prompt dispo- 
sitions made by him, prevented the success of an attempt 
to force the Highlands, and command the passes and posts 
on the upper Hudson. Headquarters were fixed at New 
Windsor, a few miles above West Point, and the army 
distributed about the Highlands. In the beginning of 
July, a corps of about two thousand six hundred men, under 
Governor Tryon, sailed from New York along the sound, 
and entered Connecticut, plundering, and ravaging, and 
burning Fairfield, Norwalk, and New Haven. To coun- 
teract the discouraging effects of these invasions, Washing- 
ton resolved upon an attempt to recover Stoney Point; and 
his instructions were given with great precision to General 

Vol. 1. 5 D 



50 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Wayne, who on the night of the 15th of July, w th tho 
utmost gallantry stormed and carried that post. Being 
found, however, not tenable, with the enemy in command 
of the river, it was afterwards abandoned. About a month 
after this, Major Henry Lee, with about three hundred 
men, and a troop of dismounted dragoons, surprised the 
enemy at Paulus Hook, and made a hundred and fifty-nine 
prisoners, having lost but two killed and three wounded. 
Towards tlie end of July, Washington's headquarters were 
moved to West Point, where he continued during the sum- 
mer and autumn, x^bout the end of December, the army 
went into winter quarters, chiefly in posts along the Hud- 
son, the cavalry being in Connecticut, and headquarters 
at Morristown. The winter was distinguished by Lord 
Stirling's attack upon Staten Island. In the month of 
June, 1780, a considerable force from New York, under 
General Knyphausen, crossed over and made a descent 
into New Jersey, but it was met at Springfield by some 
detachments from the American army, and after a sharp 
encounter was driven back to Staten Island. Washington 
took a position near the Hudson, from which he could de- 
fend either the Highlands or New Jersey, in case of in- 
cursions. In April, Lafayette, who had visited France 
the preceding season, returned with intelligence that a 
considerable naval and land force might soon be expected 
from France, to aid the operations of the Americans ; and 
accordingly, on the 16th of July, 1780, a French fleet of 
seven ships of the line, and two frigates, under the Che- 
valier de Ternay, with an army of five thousand men 
commanded by Count Rochambeau, entered the harbour 
of Newport. It was intended that other forces then at 
Brest should follow, but a blockade of that harbour by an 
English force prevented their ever arriving. Plans were 
immediately formed for combined operations against New 
York, but the British fleet having by the arrival of rein- 
forcements under Admiral Graves, become superior to thjC 



BURNING OF RICHMOND. 51 

French, the latter was bloclcaded in the harbour of New- 
port, by Admiral Arbuthnot, and nothing decided was 
accoraplished on either side. Washington encamped 
below Tappan, where he remained until the winter. On 
the 21st of September, he held an interview at Hartford 
with the Count de Rochambeau, the army being left under 
the command of General Greene. It was during Wash- 
ington's absence on this visit, that the treason of Arnold 
was attempted and discovered. Towards the close of No- 
vember, the American army went into winter quarters, 
headquarters being at New Windsor, the New England 
troops in the Highlands, the New Jersey regiments at 
Pompton, the Pennsylvania line near Morristown, and the 
French army at Newport. Previously to this, however, 
General Greene had been sent to command in the south, 
upon the defeat of Gates at Camden. Lord Cornwallis 
had overrun the Carolinas, and preparations were making 
in New York to fall upon Virginia. The appointment of 
a successor to Gates being referred by Congress to Wash- 
ington, he at once selected Greene. 

The beginning of the year 1781 was marked by the re- 
volt of the Pennsylvania and New Jersey troops, at Mor- 
ristown, Chatham, and Pompton ; the particulars of which 
need not be recorded here. When military operations 
were resumed, it was obvious that the attention of the 
British commander was directed chiefly to the south. A 
number of armed vessels, with sixteen hundred men, under 
the command of Arnold, were sent into the Chesapeake, 
to act against Virginia. Arnold burnt Richmond, and 
committed many outrages. About the middle of January, 
the British fleet at New York was seriously damaged and 
distressed by a storm ; and the blockade being relieved, 
M. Destouches, who, upon the death of De Ternay, had 
succeeded to the command of the fleet, despatched De 
Tilly, with a ship of the line and two frigates, to the 
Chesapeake, to blockade Arnold's squadron, and co-ope 



62 GEOHGE WASHINGTON. 

rate with t\ie American force on land ; and, at the same 
time, Washington despatched twelve hundred men, under 
Lafayette, to aid in the enterprise against Arnold. De 
Tilly returned, after a very partial success ; and a second 
expedition of the French fleet to the Chesapeake returned 
without entering that bay, which was soon after occupied 
by the English fleet ; and as Lafayette's expedition had 
reference chiefly to a combined action with the French 
vessels, he returned to the head of Elk, but there re- 
ceived further orders from Washington to proceed to the 
south, either to meet the enemy in Virginia, or to effect a 
junction with General Greene and the southern army. 
Meanwhile, by the advice of Lord Cornwallis, who de- 
sired to transfer the seat of war to the Chesapeake, Sir 
Henry Clinton sent from New York another detachment of 
two thousand men, under General Phillips, to co-operate 
with Arnold, who, it was expected, would be joined by 
Cornwallis from the south. The latter did soon after ad- 
vance from North Carolina, and, acting with the other 
detachments, overran the lower counties of Virginia. 
Lafayette, entitled by seniority of rank to the command of 
all the force in Virginia, displayed great skill and judg- 
ment in operating against this able and experienced British 
general. 

Meanwhile, the Count de Barras arrived in a French 
frigate, at Boston, with intelligence that a fleet, undei 
Count de Grasse, would sail from the West Indies to the 
United States, in July or August. An interview between 
Washington and Rochambeau took place at W^eathersfield, 
Connecticut, on the 22d of May, 1781, at which an at- 
tack upon New York, by the combined armies, to be aided 
by De Grasse's fleet, expected to be at Sandy Hook, was 
arranged. In the beginning of July, the American and 
French armies, under Washington and Rochambeau, took 
post near Dobbs's Ferry ; the enemy's works were recon- 
noitred, and preparations made for a general attack. 



FRENCH FLEET IN THE CHESAPEAKE. 53 

Various causes of delay intervened, and the army con- 
tinued in its encampment above six weeks. On the 14th 
of August, General Washington received a letter from the 
Count de Grasse, then at St. Domingo, informing him that 
he was about to sail with his whole fleet, and more than 
three thousand land troops, for the Chesapeake ; but that 
his engagements in the West Indies were such that he 
could not remain longer than till the middle of October. 
This intelligence produced an entire change in Washing- 
ton's plans; and it was resolved to move both the armies 
immediately to the south. Washington and Rochambeau 
preceded the troops, and reached Lafayette's headquarters, 
at Williamsburg, on the 14th of September. The array 
at the Hudson was left under the command of General 
Heath ; and the troops in motion for the south were com- 
manfled by General Lincoln. They crossed the Hudson at 
King's Ferry, marched through Trenton and Philadelphia 
to the head of the Elk, and were conveyed thence in 
transports to Virginia. 

Various devices had been employed to mislead Sir 
Henry Clinton as to the destination of these troops ; and 
being ignorant of the intended expedition of De Grasse, 
he did not discover the movement to the south until a con- 
siderable part of the route had been accomplished. De 
Grasse, with his whole fleet of twenty-six ships of the line, 
and several frigates, entered the Chesapeake after a short 
engagement with Admiral Graves off' the capes; Count de 
Barras arrived with the French squadron from Newport ; 
three thousand men from the West Indies, under the Mar- 
quis de St. Simon, landed and united with Lafayette; and 
the fate of Lord Cornwallis's army was sealed. The latter, 
expecting that the British fleet in the Chesapeake would 
be superior to the French, had taken possession of York- 
town and Gloucester Point, at the junction of the York 
and James rivers. Washington and Rochambeau had an 
interview with De Grasse on board the ship Ville de Paris, 

5* 



64 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

and the arrangemenls for the campaign were settled. The 
legion of the Due de Lauziian, and a brigade of Virginia 
militia under General Weedon, the whole commanded by 
the French brigadier-general, De Choise, observed the 
enemy at Gloucester; and on the 2Sth September, 1781, 
the combined armies moved down from Williamsburg, and 
on the 30th the outer lines were abandoned by Cornwallis, 
and occupied by the besiegers, and the investment of the 
place was completed. The siege was pressed forward with 
great energy and spirit. On the 6th of October parallels 
were opened within six hundred yards of the British lines; 
and in a few days several batteries were established, 
which opened a heavy fire on the town. On the 14th, 
two redoubts, three hundred yards in advance of the Bri- 
tish works, were stormed, one by an American detach- 
ment under Lafayette, of which the advanced corps 
was led with great bravery by Colonel Hamilton, and the 
other by a French detachment commanded by the Baron 
Viomenil. In the course of the next day some howitzers 
were placed in the redoubts, and opened with great effect 
on the besieged. On the 16th a sortie, under Lieutenant- 
Colonel Abercrorabie, against two batteries which were 
nearly completed by the Americans, was made with great 
impetuosity ; the batteries were carried by the British in 
the first instance, but the guards advancing from the 
breaches, they were soon abandoned. On the same night 
Lord Cornwallis formed the desperate resolution of 
attempting to escape to New York, and boats were col- 
lected to convey the men to the Gloucester shore to attack 
De Choise. A detachment passed over about ten o'clock 
that evening and landed ; but a violent storm which arose at 
that time and raged all night, prevented the passage of the 
rest, and carried the boats down the river. The troops 
which had passed were brought back on the following 
morning. On the 17th several fresh batteries were opened 
on the second parallel, and so deadly a fire poured in from 



SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS. 55 

every side, that further resistance would not have been 
justified. About ten o'clock in the morning a parley was 
beat by Lord Cornwallis, and a cessation of hostilities for 
twenty-four hours proposed, that commissioners mighl 
meet and settle the terms of the surrender of the posts ot 
York and Gloucester. General Washington in reply de- 
sired that Lord Cornwallis would submit an outline of the 
conditions upon which he proposed to surrender, and for 
that purpose granted a cessation of hostilities. The 
substance of the answer, though not in all respects ad- 
missible, was such as to form a satisfactory basis of 
arrangements, and a suspension of arras until night was 
conceded ; and in the mean time a draft of such articles as 
he would be willing to agree to was sent by General 
Washington. On the 18th commissioners met to digest 
these articles into form ; but some delay occurring. Gene- 
ral Washington, determined to permit no suspense on the 
part of Lord Cornwallis, early on the 19th directed his 
rough draft of ariicles to be copi.^d, and sent it to the Bri- 
tish general, stating in a letter his expectation that they 
would be signed by eleven o'clock, and that the army 
would march out by two in the afternoon. Finding that 
no better terms could be obtained, the whole of both arar- 
nsons, and the posts of York and Gloucester, with the 
ships and seamen in the harbour, were surrendered ; the 
Jatter to the Count de Grasse, and the others to General 
W^ashington. The number of prisoners of war, excluding 
seamen, was a little more than seven thousand ; five hun- 
dred and fifty had been killed during the siege. The 
allied army, which, including militia, amounted to sixteen 
thousand men, lost about three hundred killed and 
wounded. The success of this siege was due to tlie ra- 
pidity with which it was determined upon, begun, and 
pushed forward. On the very day on which the capitula- 
tion was signed, an armament of seven thousand of the 
best troops in New York was despatched by Sir Henry 



66 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Clinton with a fleet of twenty-five ships of the line, for the 
Chesapeake. It arrived off the Virginia capes on the 24th 
of October, and there received intelligence of the surren- 
der. The Count de Grasse being obliged to return to the 
West Indies, could give no further aid than to transport 
the troops and ordnance to the head of the Elk, which 
was done in the beginning of November. The com- 
mander-in-chief left Yorktown on the 5lh of November 
and returned to Philaiielphia. 

About tiie middle of April, 178-2, Washington left Phi- 
ladelphia, and established his headquarters with the army 
at Newburg. Early in May, Sir Guy Carleton arrived in 
New York and superseded Sir Henry Clinton as com- 
mander-in-chief of the British forces in America ; and in 
the beginning of August he announced that negotiations for 
a general peace had been begun at Paris, and that the inde- 
pendence of the United States would be one of the preli- 
minary concessions. Towards the end of December, the 
French army, which had remained at Yorktown until Sep- 
tember of this year, when they moved up to the Hudson, 
embarked at Boston to return home. Durlns: the winter 
of 1782-3 occurred the difficuhies at Newburg, on the 
part of the army, which illustrate the character of Wash- 
ington in its most genuine greatness, but which it does 
not comport with the nature of this narrative to state in 
detail. In the spring, intelligence arrived that a prelimi- 
nary treaty of peace had been signed at Paris, and an offi- 
cial communication of the fact, and of the cessation of hos- 
tilities having been received soon after from Sir Guy 
Carleton, proclamation of these circumstances was made 
to the American army, on the 19th of April, 1783, just 
eight years from the day on which the contest was opened 
by the affair at Lexington. On the iSth of October the 
army was disbanded by proclamation from Congress, dis- 
charging them from further service. On the 25th of No- 
vember the British army evacuated New York, and the 



ELECTED PRESIDENT. 57 

American troops which were still in the service entereo 
the city, General Washington and Governor Clinton riding 
at the head of the procession. On the 4th of December 
Washington took leave of the army at New York, and od 
the 23d of the same month resigned his commission to 
Congress, then at Annapolis, and retired on the same day 
to Mount Vernon. 

I'he political services which Washington rendered to 
the country and to mankind, after this period, were not 
less, or less exacting, than those which were concluded 
by the termination of his military career. But it is beyond 
the scope of the present work to enter upon that subject ; 
and a brief recapitulation of the dates of the principal 
events of his remaining life, will close this slight sketch. 
He was appointed a member, and afterwards chosen pre- 
sident, of the convention which met at Philadelphia, on the 
second Monday in May, 1787, to revise and remodel the 
government of the Union. The constitution, the result of 
the deliberations of this body, was signed September I7th, 
1787, and subsequently ratified by the adequate number 
of states. In April, 1789, he was chosen the first Presi- 
dent of the United Slates, and immediately entered on the 
duties of that office ; on the 4th of March, 1793, he entered 
on the second period of his official tenure ; on the 15th of 
September, 1796, about six months before the expiration 
of that terra of duty, he published his farewell address; 
and, in March following, he took a final leave of political 
life. On the 2d of July, 1798, when an open rupture 
with France was believed to have become inevitable, he 
was nominated commander-in-chief of the armies of the 
United States, and was unanimously confirmed by the 
senate on the following day. He immediately entered on 
the duties of this appointment, and engaged with great 
devotion in the establishment of an army. But the close 
of his career was nigh. On the 12th of December, he 
took cold from exposure on his farm, grew rapidly worse, 



68 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

fand expired, at Mount Vernon, on Saturday evening, De- 
cember 14tii, 1799. 

In military subjects, the abilities of Washington were, 
unquestionably, of a high order, and they were various and 
complete. In their character, they were fitted to the cir- 
cumstances and the time in which he was called upon to 
act. The wisdom of his system was vindicated, some- 
times in the success of his counsels, and sometimes in the 
disasters of those who departed from them. The peculrar 
nature of the contest — the slight and frail military esta- 
blishment over which he presided — the infinite political 
and social difficulties with which his operations vvere com- 
plicated, rendered a profound caution the first dictate of 
policy. The object to be accomplished was, in effect, a 
revolution of opinions — a change of national relations. 
Until that was realized, the revolutionary war could not 
be at an end. The most brilliant victory in the field 
would not have gained the purpose of the Americans ; a 
single complete defeat would probably have frustrated it 
for ever. It must be remembered that Washington was in 
a situation in which time was his most important auxiliary; 
the war was in its nature a prolonged one ; and, to main- 
tain a military resistance, which should be always respect- 
able in its force, and occasionally formidable in its opera- 
tions, was all that a wise mind could have proposed to 
itself. The plan of the campaign which preceded the loss 
of New York, cannot, in a military point of view^, be con- 
sidered as judicious; but, as Napoleon observed with re- 
gard to his delay at Moscow, it was more important at 
that time to act upon political than upon military considera- 
tions. The operations in New Jersey, in 1776-7, exhibit 
the highest range of military science. The movements of 
Washington, from the moment when Fort Lee was aban- 
doned, and he extricated himself by a series of prompt 
retreats from the dangers into which he was thrown by the 
advance of Lord Cornwallis, till, at the opportune moment, 



HISCHARACTER. 59 

he fell upon the enemy, in their divided state along the 
Delaware, and, soon after, struck a part of Lord Corn- 
wallis's army at Princeton, and delivered himself from the 
peril of the other part — the whole campaign of that 
month — may be set beside any campaign that is recorded 
in history. The promptness with which the plan against 
Cornwallis, at Yorktown, was conceived, and the energy 
with which it was executed, entitle the commander-in-chief 
to the highest commendation. 

In moral qualities, the character of Washington is the 
most truly dignified that was ever presented to the respect 
and admiration of mankind. He was one of the few en- 
tirely good men in whom goodness had no touch of weak- 
ness. He was one of the few rigorously just men whose 
justice was not commingled with any of the severity of 
personal temper. The elevation, and strength, and 
greatness of his feelings were derived from nature; their 
moderation was the effect of reflection and discipline. His 
temper, by nature, was ardent, and inclined to action. 
His passions were quick, and capable of an intensity of 
motion, which, when it was kindled by either intellectual 
or moral indignation, amounted almost to fury. But how 
rarely — how less than rarely — was any thing of this kind 
exhibited in his public career ! How restrained from all 
excess which reason could reprove, or viitue condemn, 
or good taste reject, were th'ese earnest impulses, in the 
accommodation of his nature to "• that great line of duty" 
which he had set up as the course of his life. Seen in 
his public duties, his attitude and character — the one ele- 
vated above familiarity, the other purged of all little- 
nesses — present a position and -an image almost purely 
sublime. 

No airy and liglit passion stirs abroad 
To ruffle or to sootlie him ; all are quelled 
Beneatli a mightier, sterner stress of mind : 
Wakeful he sits, and lonely, and unmoved, 
Beyond the arrows, views, or shouts of men ; 



60 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

As oftentimes an eagle, when the sun 
I'hrovvs o'er the varying earth his early ray. 
Stands solitary, stands immovable 
Upon some highest cliff, and rolls his eye, 
Clear, constant, unobservant, unabased, 
In the cold light, above the dews of mom. 

But when viewed in the gentler scenes of domestic and 
friendly relation, there are traits which give loveliness to 
dignity, and add grace to veneration; like the leaves and 
twigs which cluster around the trunk and huge branches 
of the colossal elm, making that beautifid which else were 
only grand. His sentiments were quick and delicate; his 
refinement exquisite. His temper was as rem.ote from 
plebeian, as his principles were opposite to democratic. If 
his public bearing had something of the solemnity of puri- 
tanism, the sources of his social nature were the spirit and 
maxims of a cavalier. His demeanour towards all men 
illustrated, in every condition, that " finest sense of justice 
which the mind can form." In all things admirable, 

IN ALL THINGS TO BE IMITATED; IN SOME THINGS Sf'ARCK 
MITABLE AND ONLY TO BE ADMIRED. 



MAJOR-GENERAL NATHANIEL GREENE. 

It was one of the fortunate results of the American 
Revolution-— apart from those great national and human 
interests, which its successful prosecution was calculated 
to promote — that it furnished the proper occasion for those 
exhibitions of individual greatness and endowments, which 
might otherwise have " died and made no sign." If it 
was a time which was particularly calculated to try the 
souls of men, it was also a period calculated to bring forth 
souls worthy of, and competent to, every trial. Of this 
class was the subject of this memoir. 

Nathaniel Greene was born at Warwick, in the then 
colony (now state) of Rhode Island, on the 27th of May, 
1742. He was the second of six sons by a second mar- 
riage. His ancestdirs were of good English extraction, 
and were among the first settlers on the banks of the Pro- 
vidence, under the charter of ^Charles II. His mother 
died while he was yet young. His father was a Quaker 
preacher, and a very strict one. His pecuniary resources 
were slender, and young Greene, in turn with all his 
brethren, was kept at the plough and anvil, in very constant 
exercise. The education accorded him was small, but 
the boy had natural gifts which demanded knowledge. 
He found his way to books without the knowledge of his 
Quaker sire ; and, at an early period in his career, made 
the acquaintance of Dr. Styles and Lindley Murray. From 
these persons his mind took something of its direction, and 
found some of its advantages. A youth named Giles, 
whom he accidentally encountered, and who had enjoyed 
L college education, shared with him a portion of his in- 
tellectual possessions. He dipped slightly into the springs 

Vol. I. 6 61 



62 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

of Horace, and contrived to make forced marches with 
Ccesar. These, it is supposed, that he knew better through 
an English medium, than at the original sources. In 
mathematics he -was more thoroughly at home. He seems 
to have taken to Euclid co7i amore. He worked his pro- 
blems over the forge, and found them quite as malleable 
as he did his iron. They were of more importance to his 
luture career than all the odes of Horace. But he did not 
confine himself to the geometer. The logic of Watts, the 
wit and sagacity of Swift, and the metaphysics of Locke, 
proved equally acceptable to his understanding. His little 
library, furnished by the proceeds of his labours &t ihe 
forge, underwent frequent additions ; and, at the opening 
of the great conflict with the mother country, he was pre 
pared to take an active part in the political discussions of 
the time and neighbourhood. 

But, with all this love of books and study, young Greene 
possessed other tastes and propensities which were scarcely 
so agreeable to the old man, his sire. His frame was one 
of great vigour and elasticity, and histemperament shared 
largely of the general characteristics of his frame. He 
loved field sports, and society. Rural games were always 
attractive to his spirit, and he had a most unquakerlike 
relish for dancing, w'hich he kept as long as possible from 
the knowledge of his father. But such a secret it is not 
possible always to conceal ; and, at length discovered, 
and anticipating the horsewhip at the hands of the sober 
Quaker sire, our hero betrayed an admirable readiness at 
military resource, in guarding against the danger, by lining 
his jackets vvith strips of shingle, which eHVctually screened 
his epidermis from the severity of the blows. 

His love of amusement did not retard his progress. It 
did not enfeeble his character. Of the strength of his re- 
solution he gave an admirable proof, while yet a boy, 
in causing himself to be inoculaterl for the small-pox, at a 
time when the fears and prejudices of the whole country 



ELECTED TO THE ASSEMBLY. 65 

were opposed to the experiment. He passed safely 
through all the stages of this terrible disorder, his courage 
and calm decision, in all probability, contributing greatly 
to his escape. At the age of twenty, with a mind at once 
bold and judicious, with habits simple almost to severity, 
an understanding tolerably informed by books, a frame 
vigorous and well developed, a spirit eager and energetic, 
he began to take an interest in the new field of national 
politics. He had picked up a little law through the help 
of Blackstone and Jacobs' Law Dictionary, and the circuit 
court at a neighbouring village yielded him an occasional 
opportunity of mingling with lawyers, and listening to their 
disputations. He did not listen with indifferent senses. 
It was here that he gathered some of those first lessons 
which subsequently prepared him for the councils of the 
nation. 

The passage of the Stamp Act decided his choice of 
party. In 1770, he was elected to the General Assembly 
of the colony, where, though always speaking briefly, it 
was always to the point. As the controversy between the 
mother country and the colonies increased in heat, he 
gradually directed his atteoiion to military studies. Tu- 
renne's Memoirs, Caesar's Commentaries, Sharpe's Military 
Guide, and Plutarch, became his companions; and it was 
not long before the youth who, when a boy, had made 
himself a corselet of shingle to defend himself from the 
heavy blows of a Quaker father, put himself in iron armour 
to encounter those of a much more tyrannous parent. But, 
before this was done, and as if still more to enhance the merits 
of his patriotism, by increasing his sacrifices and responsi- 
bilities, he took to wife a damsel of the name of Littlefield, 
and, for a brief season, gave himself up to the sweet en- 
joyments of domestic life. But this was for a season only. 
His marriage took place in July, 1774. In the spring 
following he was on his way to Lexington, where the first 
blood had been spilled upon the altar of American liberty* 



64 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

This conflict called upon the colonies to exhibit all their 
energies. Rhode Island nobly responded to the summons 
of her suffering sister. Sixteen hundred men were 
promptly voted as an army of observation, and our young 
Quaker was intrusted with its command, with the rank of 
major-general. 

His people had thus shown themselves not insensible to 
his merits. But the distinction gave no pleasure to the 
father of our hero. The military propensities of young 
Greene had already brought down upon him the censure 
of the sect. He had shown an offensive lack of sympathy 
with their doctrines of non-resistance. They had ad- 
dressed themselves to the task of bringing him back to a 
more pacific philosophy, but had failed. The work of 
remonstrance was forborne, after a patient struggle to con- 
vince him of the error of his ways ; and, finding him in- 
flexible in his principles and purpose, he was formally 
expelled from the society. It was in May, 1775, that 
Greene assumed his commat.d of the troops of Rhode 
Island. He was now thirty-three years of age, in the 
prime of manhood, with a face pleasing and full of power, 
and a figure distinguished by command and dignity. His 
complexion, naturally florid, was somewhat darkened by 
exposure ; his features were full of decision ; his eyes blue, 
and remarkable for vivacity and fire ; and a face, the expres- 
sion of which was usually thoughtful and benevolent, was 
yet possessed of such a flexibility of muscle as readily to 
express the varying emotions of his mind. In other 
words, the countenance was that of an ingenuous and 
sanguine temperament, — a frank heart and fearless spirit. 

Greene entered with proper ardour upon the prosecution 
of his duties, and what was wanting to his early training 
was soon supplied by his industry and genius. He soon 
showed himself to be a soldier. His drill was vigilantly 
urged, his discipline was worthy of a veteran. The battle 
of Bunker Hill drew his command to Cambridge. Hefe 



GREENE ON LONG ISLAND. 65 

he gained the confidence and esteenn of Washington which 
he retained through life. Washington's quick eye soon 
discovered the superior qualifications of Greene ; the latter 
had long been the profound admirer of the great Virgi- 
nian, whose career and conduct before and at the defeat 
of Braddock, had greatly interested his affections and his 
thoughts. The American army, placed on the continental 
establishment, reduced Greene from the rank of major- 
general to that of brigadier. To this he cheerfully sub- 
mitted. The service now was one of patient drudgery. 
The war languished, and, in the absence of actual conflict, 
the troops sulfered from inactivity and cold. Boston was 
at length evacuated by the British, Washington drew his 
forces towards New York, and — no bad proof of his pro- 
gress in public confidence — Greene was selected to com- 
mand on Long Island, which, it was momentarily expected, 
was to abide the assaults of the enemy. He made his pre- 
parations to receive them with becoming civilities. Esta- 
blishing his headquarters at Brooklyn, he commenced the 
study of iLe ground which might probably become the field 
of conflict. The roads and woods were explored, the 
passes and the pathways examined and guarded, the more 
accessible points were fortified, and every precaution was 
adopted which military prudence could suggest, as impor- 
tant to safety and success. In the midst of these employ- 
ments, Greene was seized with bilious fever, which 
brought him to the verge of the grave. While he still lay 
prostrate and incapable, having barely escaped in a pro- 
tracted issue between life and death, he heard the booming 
of the enemy's cannon. Unable to partake the peril, or 
attempt the prize, he lay agonized with doubt and morti- 
fication. Bitter were the tears which he shed at those re- 
verses of the American arms, which, it was commonly 
thought, were due mostly to his absence from the field. 
As soon as he could take the saddle he was at his post 

6* E 



66 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

Meanwhile, liis merits were acknowledged by Congress m 
his promolion to the rank of major-general. The fate of 
New York was now in question. It was resolved to hoi J 
it as long as possible — to evacuate only when forced to do 
so. A brilliant stand was made at Haarlem ; here Greene 
enjoyed his first regular battle. He fought bravely, and 
justified the confidence of his admirers. A portion of the 
British forces was stationed at Staten Island, whence they 
threatened the Jerseys and the American line of retreat. 
He was detached to watch their movements. His head- 
quarters were at Bergen, or Fort Lee, according to circum- 
stances. Fort Washington, feebly defended, was taken by 
the British, who, encouraged by iheir successes, pushed 
forward against Fort Lee with a strong force under Corn- 
wallis. His object was to cut off the retreat of the garri- 
son towards the Hackensack. By dint of immense exer- 
tions Greene succeeded in throwing himself across the path 
of the enemy. Hero, at the head of the stream, he con- 
trived to ktep them at bay until Washington came up. 
Yielding the command to his superior, he hurried back to 
the fort, and withdrew the garrison in safety across the 
Hackensack. He was destined to thwart, in subsequent 
trials of strength, by similarly brilliant manffiuvres, the de- 
signs of the famous British captain to whom he was opposed. 
The memorable retreat of the Americans through the 
Jerseys followed this event. In all this retrograde progress, 
Greene was the companion of Washington. He must be 
permitted to share with him the glory, as he endured 
with him all the trials and mortifications of that Fabian 
warfare of which both were the acknowledged masters. 
On the night of the 2Gth December, 1776, Greene crossed 
the Delaware in command of the left wing of the army, 
whicli in the surprise of Trenton, seized tlie artillery of the 
enemy and cut ofi' their retreat to Princeton. He assisted 
in planning this brilliant movement, commanded the 



Washington's confidence in green e. 67 

division with which Washington marched in person ; and 
was one of the few to counsel as bold a warfare agaii st all 
the other British posts in New Jersey. 

The winter of 1777 found the headquarters of the Ame- 
rican army at Morristown, New Jersey. Greene had com- 
mand of a separate division at Baskingridge. A war of 
skirmishes, by which the Americans mostly profited, was 
maintained throughout the winter. But the preparations 
were slowly made for the reorganization of the army, and 
the opening of the next campaign. To hasten the action 
of Congress in regard to these vital subjects, Greene was 
despatched to Philadelphia. No one had so perfecily the 
confidence of Washington ; no one was so intimate with his 
plans and objects; no one was better able to succeed in 
influencing the decision of the difficult body with which he 
had to deal. Returned from this mission, he was sent 
with General Knox to examine and report upon the passes 
of the Highlands of the Hudson, and take measures for 
fortifying and defending them. With the opening of 
spring the camp of Washington was broken up at Morris- 
town, and a stronger position was taken at Middlebrook. 
To draw him from this position and bring on a general 
t'ngagement was the object of the British general. In the 
many manOBUvres for the attainment of this object, Greene, 
at the head of a strong detachment, having orders to hang 
upon the British rear, made a combined movement wuth 
General Maxwell, to cut off" the rear guard. The deser- 
tion or the capture of an express to whom a portion of the 
plan was confided, defeated their scheme, which had 
otherwise been entirely successful. As it was, the prey had 
a narrow escape. The pursuit was kept up as far as Pis- 
cataway, and, in its prosecution, the troops, under the imme- 
diate lead of Morgan and Wayne, made the most intrepid 
demonstrations upon an enemy secured by redoubts and in 
superior numbers. The British general, failing in his ob- 
jects, retreated to Staten Island, where, after a course of 



58 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

mancEuvres which left his real purposes for some time m 
doubt, he embarked with his forces for the Chesapeake. 

This led Washington to a concentration of ail his 
strength with the view to meeting them. Departing from 
his usual policy, he was resolved to try the chances of 
Dattle. Greene was sent forward to reconnoitre and choose 
a place for encampment. This he did within six miles of 
the post taken by the British. A council of war, anti- 
cipating his report, had chosen another spot for the en- 
campment, to which his opinion was adverse. His judg- 
ment was suslaineil by the result. The advance of the 
British compelled the Americans to retire. A few skirmishes 
only followed, and on the 10th of September, the latter 
planted their standards on the banks of the Brandywine. 
Early next morning the enemy advanced to the attack. 
The passage of the ford, where lay the chief strength of 
the American force, was stubl)ornly resisted ; but, in the 
mean while, a strong detachment, led by Howe and Corn- 
wallis, making a circuitous march, had crossed the river, 
and were rapidly gaining the American rear. Washington 
had foreseen the possibility of the event, but, deceived by 
conflicting intelligence, forbore the policy which prompt- 
ed an atiack upon that portion of the enemy's force which 
had been left upon the right bank of the river. He now 
recalled the detachment which had crossed, and when the 
fire was heard upon the right, rapidly hastened ia that 
quarter, leaving Greene wiih two brigades so posted as to 
enable him to turn his arms upon that point where they might 
seem to be most necessary. The policy of this disposi- 
tion of his troops soon asserted itself. It was, at the moment 
when all was confusion in the American line — when the 
ranks were broken, and the fugitives darting off" in flight 
and fear on every side, that Greene, with his fresh brigades, 
threw himself between them and the exulting enemy, who 
pressed forward, shouting, as with a triumph already sure. 
A isharj) and well directed fire from his field pieces arrested 



HOWE ENTERS PHILADELHIA. 69 

their advance. Opening his ranks to the fugitives, he 
covered ihein with his closing wings, and, in this manner, 
reduced to order that retreat which before had been mere 
fligld and panic. Reaching a narrow defile which com- 
mended itself to the military eye, as a proper place for a 
second trial of strength, he halted and drew up his men 
for battle. Flushed with victory, the British rushed head- 
long to die strife, and were made to recoil under the close 
and well-directed fire which sent death throughout their 
ranks. The position which Greene had taken was not to 
be turned. Repeated attempts of the enemy proved that 
it was not to be forced. The struggle lasted till night 
closed upon the combatants, when the British failing to 
overcome the stubbornness of their foes, and exhausted 
with the fatigues of the day, drew off, and left our hero to 
retire, with equal honour and composure, from the ground 
which he had maintained with such a noble firmness. 

Howe, the British general, was not disposed to let the 
Americans escape. Advancing upon Goslien, he was once 
more within striking distance of the camp of Washington, 
who directed SulUvan, as senior major-general, to draw 
up the troops for action. The ground chosen by Sullivan 
was of such a nature that, in the event of defeat, retreat 
would be impossible. The quick eye of Greene detected 
the error at a glance, drew the notice of Washington upon 
It, and a new position was taken. A violent storm coming 
on prevented the engagement, and the Americans moved 
towards Reading while the British continued their advance. 
Washington vainly endeavoured to baffle or retard their 
progress. Howe's manoeuvres and superior resources en- 
abled him, in spite of opposition, to make his way to Phi- 
ladelphia, which he at length entered as a conqueror. 

But the Americans were not without their successes, and 
the gain of Philadelphia did not contribute to the security 
of the invader. Washington determined upon a daring en- 
terprise, by which to compensate himself for its loss. The 



70 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

mam body of the British were quartered at Germantown, 
within six miles of Philadelphia. Another force was within 
the city, and other bodies were sent in other directions. 
To attempt these in detail was the obvious policy of the 
American general. He turned his columns upon the force 
stationed at Germantown. His left wing was confided to 
Greene, who was ordered to attack the British right. The 
right of the Americans, led by Sullivan, was accompanied 
by Washington in person, who advanced against the enemy's 
left and centre. It was at the break of day on the 4th 
October, that Greene, with his own brigade, supported by 
those of Stephens andJMcDougall, moved to the attack. 
A heavy fog overspread the scene. Objects were invisible 
at fifiy yards. The army made its way slowly and with 
difficulty towards the foe. The right of the Americans was 
the first in action. Their cannonade apprized Greene of 
their progress, and stimulated the enthusiasm of his men,^ 
who rushed into the embrace of batile with a shout. The 
fog still lay densely over the field ; the darkness increased 
by the volumes of smoke that now rolled upward from 
the guns. The flash of fire from the foe, as it gleamed sud- 
denly like a stream of lightning from the cloud, was the 
only mark, by which to guide the answering fires of the 
American marksmen. But this was enough. They an- 
swered with effect, and, rushing forward, pressed their way 
into the village, at the point of the bayonet. The cloud 
lifted at this moment, and afforded the first clear glimpses 
of the field of battle. But the success of the Americans was 
not complete, Sullivan had made a brilliant swoop, had 
carried all before him for a moment, but had finally been 
forced back from his prey. His men were in confusion, 
and flying from the field. The division of Stephens, suc- 
cessful also in the first instance, in the midst of a charge, 
suddenly recoiled in unwonted-panic which their leaders 
strove vainly to allay. This misfortune was probably due 
to the fog, and to the confusion caused by an accidental 



F U T M E U C E R THREATENED. 71 

entanglement of the latter with the left of Sullivan's divi- 
sion. It was such a misfortune as might defeat the efiorts 
to recover, of the most experienced soldiers. It was one 
from which the raw troops of the American general could 
not well extricale themselves. To prevent a worse dis- 
aster, it was necessary to draw them off with as much cool- 
ness and promptiiude as possible. This was no easy task, 
particularly when, in addition to the force of the enemy 
w^hich had been assailed, the retreat was to be conducted 
in the face of a fresh body of troops, under Cornwallis, 
which the first sounds of battle had brought from Phila- 
delphia. Greene conducted the retrogi-ade movement, 
under the continued and persevering pressure of ihe foe. 
The conflict was unremitted for nearly five miles, and was 
closed at last by a succession of warm volleys, which com- 
pelled the British to forego pursuit. The day had been 
one of reverses and disappointment, but it sufficed to prove 
the generalship of Greene. The Americans had been un 
fortunate, but if they had not gained the victory, they had 
won experience and other lessons of strength, which were 
to insure them future victories. 

The forts on the Delaware were now threatened by the 
enemy. Cornwallis was advancing against Fort Mercer. 
Greene was sent forward to encounter him. He was to 
effect a junction with anoiher body of troops; but, before 
this could be done, the Briiish general was reinforced. 
But this accession of strength on the one hand, and the 
lack of it on the other, did not encourage the former to 
persevere in his attempts. To what his forbearance is to 
be ascribed may not be said. The aspect of Greene's 
command, his proximity and position, in all probability 
discouraged the British general from any thing involving 
peculiar hazard. He recrossed the river without employ- 
ing his advantages, and Greene returned to Washington. 
The American army now went into winter quarters at 
Valley Forge, and the active operations against the enemy 



72 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

ceased with this event. But this cessation of arms did not 
iinpiy repose in the Araerican camp. It was during this 
memorable winter, that the intrigues commonly known as 
the cabal of Conway, designed for the overthrow of Wash- 
ington, first found their public expression. Greene shared, 
as a matter of course, in those calumnies which assailed 
his friend. He was honourably distinguished by his great 
intimacy wilh the commander-in-chief, and, did he lack 
all other means of dislinction, it would be the sufficient 
boast of his monument to bear the inscription, "He was 
the friend of Washington!" The conspiracy, as we know, 
failed utterly of its object ; but it was not without its bane- 
ful and mortifying influence upon the character and feel- 
ings of those whom it assailed. We may de§troy the 
viper, but, though his venom may fail to poison, it will 
still rankle, and his slaver will always be sure to otfend. 
Greene was among those who were destined to suffer for 
years from prejudices and a wretched hostility which this 
cabal had engendered. The winter at the log huts of 
Valley Forge was not one of repose and quiet. In addi- 
tion to the persecutions of the malignant, were the extreme 
cares of the army. Its organization, particularly in the 
departments of the commissary and quartermaster-gene- 
ral, were sadly defective. To the cool judgment, the 
quick eye, the sagacity and providence of Greene, the 
commander-in-chief turned to remedy their deficiencies. 
At his urgent entreaties and " those of Congress," he con- 
sented to undertake the duties of this laborious office. 
Slow to accept, he was quick to perform, the duty being 
once undertaken. He repaired the evils of the system. 
He brought order out of chaos — restored harmony, soothed 
discord, and found means, where his predecessor seemed 
only to have prayed for them. 

The British having evacuated Philadelphia, the Ameri- 
cans crossed to the eastern branch of the Delaware. 
Clinton's march was evidently to be taken through the 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 73 

Jerseys. Six of the American brigades were put forward 
to retard his motions ; and an American council of war 
Nas assembled to consult upon the expediency of seeking 
battle. Lee and a mnjority of the officers opposed this 
design. Greene counselled it with all his might, and 
Washington concurred with Greene. He exercised a light 
which Congress had conferred upon him, and determined 
upon fighting on his own responsibility, against the 
opinions of the majority. This decision led to the battle 
of Monmouth. Lee, sent forward to bring on the action, 
was found in full retreat, as Greene, at the head of the 
right wing, approached the enemy. His orders to gain 
the British rear were rendered useless by this event. 
He promptly decided upon a diiferent measure, and, taking 
a strong position on the enemy's left, drew their column 
upon him. Their assault was met with admirable firmness 
and vigour. Greene's artillery was well served, and his in- 
fantry plied their small arms with a rapidity and accuracy 
which soon thinned the advancing files of the assailants. 
Their line was driven back in oonfusion and with great loss ; 
and, secure in his position, Greene was at liberty to use his 
artillery in enfilading that body of the British troops which 
was opposed to the American left. The advance of 
Wayne with a strong force of infantry, finished the combat. 
The enemy was driven from the field at the point of the 
bayonet. Greene's toils, as quartermaster-general, were 
not over with the conflict. Help for the wounded, food 
for the more fortunate who escaped from hurt, were to be 
provided, before he could wrap himself in his cloak and 
snatch, at the foot of a tree, the repose of a few hours, ren- 
dered absolutely necessary by the incessant toils and fatigues 
of four-anil-twenty hours of fight and exercise. 

The British retreated in the night. With the dawn, the 

Americans resumed their march towards the north. A 

French lleet had reached the coast. A combined attack 

of the Americans and their allies was designed against the 

Vol. I. 7 



/4 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

British forces in Rhode Ishind. Lafayette was ordered to 
Providence with one detachment, and Greene soon followed 
him with another. The whole was confided to Sullivan. 
Preparaiions were made for an assault upon Newport. 
Greene with one division took up his quarters upon the 
high grounds of Tiverton. On the 8th August, the French 
fleet forced its passage into Narragansett bay, under a 
heavy fire from the English batteries. The morning of 
the lOih was selected for the attack on Newport. The 
British general abandoned his outposts and concentrated 
his forces widiin his lines. All things promised success 
to the assault, but the appearance of a British fleet, at the 
mouth of the harbour, beguiled D'Estaing with the French 
fleet from it. He left a certain for an uncertain triumph. 
The Americans, left to themselves, were not in force to 
attempt assault. A siege was resolved upon. This de- 
sign was arre>^ted by a storm which lasted for three days 
and nights, and which ravaged the face of the country, 
destroying army equipments, ammunition, and, in nume- 
rous instances, human life. .The return of D'Estaing com- 
pleted the misfortunes of the Americans. He too had suf- 
fered from the hurricane. His ships were shattered — his 
resources diminished — his officers discontented, and his 
troops dispirited. He could do nothing. It was in vain 
that the American officers protested against his determi- 
nation. The enterprise was abandoned. The American 
forces were drawn off' in the niyht, Greene covering the 
retreat. With their disappearance, the enemy's force was 
set in motion. By three o'clock in the morning, the for- 
mer had reached their redoubts at the end of the island, 
and at seven the Briu^h were upon them. Greene, be- 
lieving that they had pursued in detachments, counselled 
that they should be met boldly ; but his opinions were 
overruled. The troops were kept on the defensive. 
Sharp was the skirmishing that followed. From adjacent 
eminences the American redoubts were cannonade i. An 



AFFAIB AT EL I Z A BE T H T O WN. 75 

attempt was made to turn their right under cover of seve- 
ral vessels of war; and, for a while, the whole pressure of 
the British was upon this wing of the array. It was 
strengthened accordingly. Greene was here in person. 
His coolness and judgment were conspicuous. He was 
fighting in the very eye of his homestead. He was minis- 
tering to freedom at the family altars. The enemy were 
rej)ulsed after a terrible struggle. They were driven off 
with great slaughter. The cannonade was renewed nex 
day, but wiih no effect, and no farther attempt was made 
to impede the retreat of the Americans. They crossed 
over to the main that night, without loss or interruption. 

Greene had now held the office of quartermaster-gene- 
ral for two years. It was an onerous and unthankful one. 
A discussion in Congress, as to his mode of administering 
it, and the mutilation of all the valuable features of a 
scheme which he had devised for its better organization, 
afforded him an opportunity of resigning, of which he 
promptly availed himself. His letter to this effect gave 
great offence, but his merits saved him from his enemies. 
The army and the country knew his value, though a party 
in Congress still angrily denied it. The events of the war 
silenced the controversy. Greene was at Springfield, N. 
J., with the Jersey militia, and two brigades of continen- 
tals, while Washington, watching the movements of Clin- 
ton, who threatened West Point, moved with the main 
army tovv^ards the north. While such was the position of 
the several opponents, Greene was advised of the landing 
of the enemy at Elizabethtown, and of his advance towards 
him, with a force fully trebling his own. Expresses were 
sent to the commander-in-chief, and, with all proper pre- 
cautions taken, Greene so disposed his little army, by ex- 
tending his front, as to cover two of the bridges by which 
the enemy's approach could be made. Forced from this 
position, it was in his power to contract his wings, and 
»tire to a strong position in the rear of the village. Lee, 



76 NATHANIEL GREEN b;. 

supported by Ogden, was posted at Little's bridge, on 
the Vauxhall road ; while that in front of the town was 
confided to Angell, whose command was strengthened by 
several small detachments, and provided with one piece 
of artillery. Their retreat was covered by the regiment of 
Shreve, which took post at the third bridge, — a short dis- 
tance behind them. The remainder of the army, consist- 
ing of two brigades, occupied some higher grounds still 
farther in the rear. The flanks were guarded by the 
militia. 

The action was begun by a sharp cannonade which 
lasted for two hours, the enemy manoeuvring as if resolved 
to turn the American flanks. Their right, meanwhile, was 
advancing upon Lee, who disputed the passage so hand- 
somely, that, but for the fact that his position was com- 
manded by a neighbouring hill, which the enemy, by 
crossing at a ford above, had succeeded in gaining, it would 
have been scarcely possible to dislodge him. While these 
events were in progress on the left, Angell, on the right, 
was engaged hotly with another body of assailants. His 
single fieldpiece and small force, did famous execution 
against four times their number, maintaining the conflict 
with undaunted valour for more than half an hour. They 
yielded only to superior numbers, and retired to the bridge 
in the rear, carrying off their wounded, and saving their 
artillery. The British pressed the pursuit, but were re- 
pulsed by Shreve. Greene now contracted his front, 
drew in his regiments, and retired slowly and safely to the 
strong position which he had chosen with reference to this 
emergency, among the hills in the rear of the village. 
From this point, commanding both roads, he effectually 
checked the pursuit. Here he awaited for the renewal of 
the conQict. But the stubborn defence which had been 
already made, discouraged the assailants. Clinton found 
it a more pleasant and less periloi:s employment to give 
Elizabethtown to the flames. The burning houses were 



MAJOR ANDRE. 77 

the signal to Greene to change his tactics. He descended 
from the hills, but the enemy was already in full retreat, 
and beyond the reach of the avengers. 

An interval of anxiety followed, which was not action. 
The war languished. The sluggish nature of events, how- 
ever, was suddenly broken by the treason of Arnold, and the 
arrest of Andre. Greene was called to preside over that 
court of inquiry to which the case of the British spy was 
confided. The world knows the decision of the court. 
Painful as was the duty before thera, it was too obvious 
for evasion. Andre was convicied on his own confession. 
The fate of armies, the safety of states and nations de- 
manded that he should be the sacrifice of that treachery 
in which he shared, and which he may have prompted. 
In all the proceedings connected with this affair, Greene 
approved himself equally the man and the warrior — at 
once true to humanity and duty — yielding his tears to the 
necessity which he was yet sternly commissioned to obey. 
The post which Arnold had abandoned, was confided to 
his keeping. He bad, however, scarcely entered upon its 
duties, when he found himself appointed to the armies of 
the south. 

Gates, the victor at Saratoga, had yielded his laurels to 
Cornwallis, at the fatal fight of Camden. The war needed a 
more prudent and not less courageous warrior. The debris 
of Gates' army awaited Greene at Charlotte, North Caro- 
lina. Here he found it, but it was a wreck indeed ; — few 
in number, feeble in spirit, and wanting every thing neces- 
sary to proper performance. To examine into the nature 
of the country he designed to penetrate, — to ascertain the 
objects and resources of his enemy, — to find or make the 
resources essential to his own troops, and to discipline 
thera for active and immediate service, req'uired and re- 
ceived his instant attention. His people were dispirited ; 
his enemy exulting in repeated conquest. To avoid pre- 
cipitate conflict with the latter, without stid farther de- 

7* 



78 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

pressing the morale of the former, required the talents ot 
superior generalship. Greene brought these to the work 
before him. It was fortunate that he was admirably sus- 
tained by his own officers, and the peculiar abilities of the 
partisan captains which the south furnished for co-opera- 
tion with him. With Marion, Sumter, and Pickens, of 
the Carolina troops ; and Morgan, Williams, Howard, 
Lee, and Carrington, of the regular service, he might well 
found his hopes upon a resource which would scarcely 
fail him, the material of war being still so greauly wanting. 
He soon entered the region of bloody debate and peril. A 
detachment, under Morgan, was sent across the Catawba, 
while Greene, with the main army, encamped upon the 
Pedee. 

His presence and proceedings were very soon produc- 
tive of the most admirable effects. His appearance in 
Carolina was hailed by results of the most encouraging 
character. Marion and Lee carried Georgetown by sur- 
prise, though they failed to hold it ; and Morgan, after 
some small successes against the tories, met and defeated 
Tarleton, in the bloody and brilliant battle of the Cowpens. 
Greene soon appeared in the camp of Morgan, on the banks 
of the Catawba. Meanwhile, Cornwallis had destroyed his 
oaggage, to facilitate his movements, and was preparing to 
cross the same river. His objects were unknown; but 
Greene endeavoured to anticipate them. He drew his 
array together, and hastened its march towards Salisbury. 
" There is great glory ahead," he writes, in one of his 
letters; "and I am not without hopes of ruining Lord 
Cornwallis, if he persists in his mad scheme of pushing 
through the country." The aim of the British general 
was not long doubtful. The waters of the Catawba, by 
which the two armies were separated, swollen by recent 
rams, now began to subside. The fords were practicable. 
Greene determined to dispute the passage with his militia, 
and to retard and harass the progress of the enemy, with 



ANECDOTE OF GREENE. 79 

whom he was not yet sufficiently strong to engage in equal 
battle. Cornwaliis effected the passage of the Catawba, 
in a rain storm, and under the American fire. ' A sharp 
conflict ensued. The British suffered severely; but the 
death of General Davidson, who commanded the militia, 
had the effect of dispiriting and dispersing them. Greene 
retreated upon Salisbury. On his route, an anecdote oc- 
curred, which admirably illustrates the uniform patriotism 
of the American women, Greene's despondency did not 
escape the eyes of the landlady, at whose house he stopped 
for repose and refreshment. He alighted from his horse, 
in rain and storm, through which he had ridden all the day. 
His garments were soaked and soiled, — his limbs were 
weary, — his heart was sad ; and, when asked about his 
condition, he answered that he was "tired, hungry, and 
penniless." Scarcely had he procured refreshment, when 
the good woman drev/ him to a private apartment, and 
placed in his hands two bags of specie, — all her little 
hoard, — the treasure of years, and, possibly, all the earn- 
ings of her life. "Take these," said she; "I can do 
without them, and they are necessary to you." 

Cornwaliis urged the pursuit with vigour, sending 
General O'Hara forward to prevent the Americans from 
passing the Yadkin. But the providence of Greene, by 
which boats had been secured in advance, enabled them 
to efiect the passage before the British appeared in sight. 
The whigs of Salisbury were bringing up the rear, when 
O'Hara's advance broke upon them. A sharp skirmish 
followed, in which both parties claimed the victory. But 
the Americans gained their object. They threw the river 
between them and their pursuers, without loss to themselves 
baffled the efforts of O'Hara to seize upon their boats, 
and, in the delay thus caused to the pursuit, the Yadkin, 
swelled by successive rains beyond its bounds, effectually 
saved the Americans from farther annoyance. It was in 
vaiD that the British opened with a fierce cannonade upon 



so N A T H A N I E L G R L E N E. 

the camp oi Greene. Their bullets tore the shingles trona 
the root' of the cabin in which he sat, writing his de- 
spatches, but without disturbing his composure or injuring 
his person. 

Cornwallis continued the pursuit, as soon as he could 
cross tlie river, in the hope of cutting off his adversary 
from ihe upper lords of the Dan. The manoeuvres which 
followed from this chase have been justly considered 
among the most masterly that had been exhibited during 
the American war. Greene's great merit was that Fabian 
policy which had so frequently saved Washington. On 
the 10th of February, the two armies lay within tweiiiy- 
five miles of each other. Nearly one month had been 
consumed in this protracted pursuit, and the eyes of the 
nation were drawn upon the rival armies. To crush his 
adversary without impediment, Cornwallis had destroyed 
his baggage. This showed a rare and stern resolution, at 
all hazards to effect his object. But one river lay be- 
tween the British general and Virginia. This crossed, 
ami the south must be detached from the confederacy, 
certainly for the time, possibly for ever. Greene felt the 
vast importance of the trust; and his genius rose with its 
pre.*5sure, and proved equal to its exigencies. We cannot 
pursue these beautiful details of progress, as exquisitely 
nice and as admirably calculated as any work of art, by 
which a series of the most masterly manoeuvres, and occa 
sional skirmishes of great spirit, placed the Americans in 
safety on the northern banks of the Dan, and finished this 
remarkable retreat and pursuit. "Your retreat," said 
Washington, "is highly applauded by all ranks." Tarle- 
ton, an enemy, writes — " Every measure of the Americans, 
difring their march from the Catawba to Virginia, was ju- 
diciously designed, and vigorously executed." And the 
retreat, thus made in the immediate presence of afar supe- 
rior foe, was made by troops many of whom had never 
seen battle, — raw militia, in fact, — without adequate cloth- 



BRITISH RETREAT FROM THE DAN. 8) 

ing, without supplies, in the deptli of winter, and uncle.'' 
inclement skies. The genius of their commander supplied 
deiiciencies, soothed discontent, encouraged hope, and 
converted a dispirited militia iiiio confident and veteran 
soldiers. 

Greene soon obtained supplies and reinforcements. Re 
crossing the Dan, it was now the turn of Cornwallis to re- 
treat. Pickens advanced with a strong body of miliiia on 
the left Hank of the enemy. Caswell, with a subsidy from the 
North Carolina railiua, made a similar demonstration from 
the opposite direction. The two armies lay sullenly watch- 
ing each other, when the British columns suddenly began 
their retreat from the banks of the Dan. Bodies of picked 
men from the American army followed his movements, at 
once to harass his progress, and ascenain his objects. These 
were doubiful. At one moment he seemed to threaten 
Pickens, at another the magazines on the iloanoke ; but, 
suddenly turning his back upon the Dan, he moved to- 
wards Hillsborough, a region filled with loyalists, whence 
he issued his proclamation calling upon the faithtul to 
repair to his standard. But the time had come when, as 
he himself expressed it, the friendly had grow n timid, and 
the hostile inveterate. Greene watched and followed all 
his movements, determined to prevent his flight to the 
coast — a purpose which his proceedings seemed to indicate. 
The delay of a few days, he well knew, would be fatal to 
the British. The American partisans were closing around 
them. The army of Greene was receiving daily acces- 
sions ; and several smart skirmishes, in which the British 
sutiered great losses, had encouraged their adversaries 
with fresher hopes. Greene was not yet sirong enough to 
give battle to Cornwallis ; but circumstances made it neces- 
sary that he should keep the field, and exhibit equal bold- 
ness and activity. His light troops were continually em- 
ployed in beating up the British quarters, harassing their 

F 



82 N A T U A N I E L G R E E y E. 

march, cutting off' their supplies, — doing every thing, in 
short, but pitching their stanihirds before them in the pla.n. 
It became the policy of Cornwallis to force him to retreat 
or fight. A war of manoeuvre followed, which our limits 
will not permit us to describe. The result of this struggle, 
at length, brought Greene to Guilford Court-House within 
fourteen miles of the British position. A battle was now 
nearly inevitable, and, yielding somewhat to popular opi- 
nion, Greene was prepared to wait tor it, if not to seek it. 
It was on the 15th of March, 1781, tliat he drew up in order 
of battle. The ground was chosen with regard to the 
nature of the American troops. It was broken and irregu- 
lar. The first line of Greene was drawn out on the skirts 
of a wood, and at right angles with the road, by which the 
enemy was approaching. It consisted of raw and untrained 
militia from North Carolina, who had never crossed arms 
with an enemy. But they were practised marksmen. They 
were commanded by Generals Butler and Eaton. The 
second line, arranged about three hundred yards behind 
the first, consisted of raw troops also, Virginians, led by 
Stevens and Lawson, Both of these lines extended across 
the road. About four hundred yards behind the second 
line, the continentals were placed under Huger and Wil- 
liams. They presented, in conformity with the aspect of 
the grountl they occupied, a double front, — two regiments 
of Virginia regulars, under Greene and lludford, on the 
right, and the first and second Maryland ou the left, under 
Gunby and Ford. A corps of observatic:), composed of the 
dragoons of the first and third regiments, Lynch's rifieraen, 
and a detachment of liglitintantry, under Lieutenant-Colonel 
Washington, covered the right llank. Lee, with his legion, 
supported by detachments of light infantry and rillemen, 
increased tlie securities of the left, and both of these corps 
occupied the woods at the extremities of the first line. 
The artillery, with the exception of two pieces, under Cap- 



BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. Oo 

tain Singlotoii; which were pushed forwartl, cominaiuling 
the enemy's first approaches, was posted with the regulars 
on the hill, near the Court-House. 

The van of the British army came under the fire of 
Singleton's pieces about one o'clock in the day. A brisk 
cannonade from the royal artillery answered them, until 
the British had formed their line of battle. They were 
ranged in a single line, and without a reserve. They 
advanced under cover of the smoke from dieir artillery, 
and the militia yielded to the cluirge of the bayonet, deli- 
vering a partial fire only. The enemy, pressing forward 
upon the second line, were suddenly checked by a sharp 
fire from the corps of Washington and Lee. To dislodge 
these was necessary to the British progress. Concentrating 
a suiiicient force for this object, Cornwallis drove them 
slowly before them, suffering severely under their fire, and 
making his way only with the bayonet. The battle now 
began with double spirit. The Virginia militia met the 
tide of conflict manfully, undismayed by its torments, and 
the bad example of the North Carolinians. Their fire told 
with deadly effect upon the assailants, whom nothing 
saved but the flight of the first line of the Americans, and 
their own admirable discipline. The right wing of the 
Americans gradually yielded, but with ranks still unbroken. 
The British followed up their advantage with the bayonet, 
and the retreat of the vving, which still held together, be- 
came general throughout the line. Retreating to the third 
line, they took post on the right of the Marylanders. On 
the left, where the militia was supported by the corps of 
Lee and Campbell, the action still continued. The eye of 
Greene w^as cheered by the prospect, with all its disadvan- 
tages. By this time the whole of the British army, with 
the exception of its cavalry, had been brought into action. 
[t had suflfered to considerable degree, in all its divisions, 
from the American fire. The line was dismembered , 
some of its corps were scattered ; and, with his third line 



84 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

fresh, and as yet untouched, the American general had 
every reason to think that the victory was within his grasp. 
The veteran regiment of Gunby was the tirst to feel the 
British fire, as General Webster, with his division, flushed 
with the successes already won, advanced upon the third 
line of the Americans. Discipline met discipline. Thoy 
were received by a steady blaze of fire, general and well- 
directed, under which they reeled, stunned and con- 
founded, and before they could recover from the shock, 
the Americans were upon them with the bayonet. The 
rout was complete. Had the cavalry of Greene been pre- 
sent, or could he have ventured to push forward another 
regiment to follow up the blow, the conflict would have 
been finished in victory. But he dared not peril his line 
with such a hope, particularly as the battle was still raging 
on the lefi, and had assumed an aspect unfavourable to 
his fortunes. Stevens, who commanded the left w'ing of 
the Virginians, had been disabled ; his militia, after a 
gallant struggle, had at length yielded to the push of the 
veteran bayonet, and, still delivering their fire from tree to 
tree, as they withdrew, were winding through the woods 
to the rear of the continentals. 'J'heir retreat left the 
column of Leslie free to liasten to the support of that of 
O'Hara, who was now hurrying to the assault upon the 
second regiment of Maryland. It was their shame and 
Greene's misfortune, that this latter body failed to follow 
the brilliant example just given them by that of Gunby, 
— failed in the moment of trial, and, breaking at the first 
rude collision with the enemy, scattered themselves in 
confusion through the field. Gunbv's regiment again 
interposed to check the progress of the British. Wheeling 
to the left upon the advancing guards of the enemy, they 
compelled a renewal of the contest. Fierce and wild was 
the encounter. Gunby's horse shot down, Howard suc- 
ceeded to the command. At the moment of greatest peril, 
»vhen the strife was at its worst, Washington Wilh his 



BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. 85 

cavalry dashed through the British ranks, smiting terribly 
on every side. The charge of the bayonet, led by Howard, 
rendered the shock irresistible, and Stuart, the commander 
of the guards, being slain, they sought safety in flight, 
sulTering dreadfully under the close pursuit of Howard and 
Washino'ton, who gave them no breathing moment to re- 
unite their broken ranks. Cornwallis beheld the peril of 
the day. The field could be saved only by an expedient, 
at once bold and terrible. He did not scruple to use it. 
The ground was covered by his favourite but flying troops. 
The Americans were close upon their footsteps. All was 
about to be lost, when the stern but sagacious Briton com- 
manded his artillery to open upon the mingling masses, 
though every bullet told equally upon friend and foe. 
"It is destroying ourselves," remonstrated O'Hara. "Very 
true," was the reply of Cornwallis, " but it is necessary 
that we should do so, to arrest impending destruc.ion." 
The expedient was successful ; the pursuing Americans 
paused from the work of death ; but one half of the British 
battalion was cut to pieces by their own artillery, z^s the 
British rallied, Greene seized the opportunity to recall his 
troops, and retire from a field at once of defeat and victory. 
The laurel had been within his grasp more than once dur- 
ing the conflict. T'he premature flight of the first line, 
before their iire had well told upon their assailants — the 
unhappy panic of the second regiment of Maryland — had 
lost liira the day. But for these events the victory was 
beyond all question. To Cornwallis, who had narrowly 
escaped captivity in the conflict, it was such a victory as 
that of Pyrrhus. It left him undone. The fruits of the 
batile of Guilford enured to the Americans. The remain- 
ins: force of Cornwallis showed a diminution of one fourth 
of its strength, and its progress was encumbered by his 
numerous wounded. It soon became necessary that he 
should retreat from the barren field that he boasted to have 
won. Greene pressed upon his retreating footsteps. But 
Vol. I. 8 



86 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

the flight of Cornwallis was too precipitate ; and, after 
having contributed, by an eager pursuit, to precipitate nis 
movements, Greene forbore the chase, and prepared to 
contemplate a new enemy and another field of action. He 
determined once more to penetrate the territories of South 
Carolina, and to attempt, in detail, the distraction of the 
several British posts, by which they held that state in sub- 
jection. 

His appearance in Carolina — his approach to the British 
post at Camden — was not long concealed from the enemy 
whom he now sought. The departure of Cornwallis for 
Virginia left Lord Rawdon in command of the British 
forces in the extreme south. Rawdon was a bold, cooi, 
and vigilant commander. He prepared for the enemy 
whom he had been taught to respect. Greene advanced 
to a posiiijn within half a mile of the British lines, but 
failed to beguile Rawdon from their shelter as was his ob- 
ject. Auvices of a[5proaching reinforcements to the latter, 
prompted the American general to withdraw from this po- 
sition, after a demonstration sutliciently long to encourage 
his troops. He then, in a sudden movement, by a cir- 
cuitous route, proceeded to throw himself across the path 
of the advancing reinforcements of the British. Satisfied, 
f. lally, to leave these to the interposing forces of JMarion 
and Lee, Greene returned to the post at Hobkirk's Hill, 
which he had before taken, in proximity to the lines of 
Rawdon. It was while his troops, fatigued by a long and 
rapid march, and almost famished by twenty hours of ab- 
stinence, were preparing a hasty breakfast, that a fire from 
his vedettes, and a rapid roll of the drum announced the 
approach of the enemy. In a few moments all was in 
order for battle. The line occupied a long low ridge, the 
left wing resting upon an impassable swamp, the right in 
air, and stretching away into the forests. The field was 
one unbroken tract of wood. The high road to Camden 
ran throue:h the centre of the encampment, dividing the 



BATTLE OF HOBKIRk's HILL. 87 

two wings and leaving a space for the artillery. The con- 
tinentals were too few to form more than a single line of 
nine hundred men. The Virginians formed the right, led 
by Huger. The left, which included the veteran regi 
ment of Gunby, and Ford's second Maryland, was com- 
mitted to Williams. Harrison, with the artillery, held the 
centre, while the reserve, consisting of only two hundrea 
and fifty militia, was posted with Washington's cavalry. 
The approach of Ravvdon was well arrested by the picket 
guard, under Benson and Morgan, who disputed the 
ground inch by inch. Kirkwood, with the remnant of the 
noble regiment of Delaware, next encountered him with 
a sturdy spirit that could not be surpassed ; but they could 
only delay and not arrest or baffle the superior forces that 
came against them. As Greene beheld the front of the 
British line, he was struck with its narrowness, and the 
keen eye of military genius at once seized upon the ad- 
vantage which the fact suggested. To outflank the British 
was his prompt decision. " Let Campbell and Ford turn 
their fianks," was his cry — " the centre charge with the 
bayonet, and Washington take them in the rear." The 
battle opened from right to left in an instant ; the Ameri- 
can fire soon declared its superiority to that of the enemy. 
Right and lefr, the regiments of Ford and Campbell were 
gallantly pressing forward upon the British flanks ; and all 
things promised well for victory, when the former fell by a 
mortal wound, and a momentary confusion followed in his 
ranks. It was at this critical moment that the regiment of 
Gunby, the favourite corps of the army — the only veterans 
which it had to boast, and to which all eyes turned for 
example — faltered in the advance, recoiled in panic, and, 
mistaking a precautionary order of their leader for an 
order to retreat, wheeled about and hurried in confusion 
\o the rear. Their officers strove in vain for their recall 
Panic, in war, is a loss of all the faculties. They were deaf 
and blind to all things but danger, and the impulse ot 



88 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

terror prnvpd irresistible. Tlieir retreiit isolated the regi« 
mentofFord. The pernicious example spread. The raw 
troops under Campbell had been playing well their parts 
until this disaster, but they soon fell into confusion. The 
second Virginia regiment still held their ground. Greene, 
heedless of all the risk, leil them on in person, and pe- 
riled himself as freely as a captain of grenadiers eager to 
pluck distinction from the bloody shrines of a first battle- 
field. But the day was irretrievable. It was in vain that 
he sj)urred his horse throiigh the thick of conllict, and 
stood upon the loftiest places of ihe field, indill'erent.to its 
swarming bullets. His eyes opened only on disaster. To 
draw oil' the army, to cover the fugitives with the troops 
that still held together — to do all to lessen the aggregate 
of loss and mischiei" — was now ihe obvious policy. The 
artillery was about to be lost. Greene himself seized upon 
the drag-ropes. His example was irresistd)le. His men 
gathered about him ; but they began to fall fast beneath 
ihe assaults of the enemy. Of forty-five that had rushed 
to liis side, but fourteen remained. All would have been 
lost, but for the timely charge of Washington's cavalry. 
This charge arresteil the pursuit. The day closed, and, 
returning like a wounded tiger to his jungle, Greene 
paused within two miles of the scene of conllict to draw 
together his shattered forces. 

Deep was the mortification of the American general ; — but 
he did not despair. He had his consolations. Two days 
after this event saw the garrison of Fort Watson yielded to 
Marion. That of Fort Mntte soon shared the same fate, in 
spite of all the efforts of the British general. Orangeburg 
was yielded to Sumter, and Rawdon began to tremble 
Jest he should be cut off from his communication with the 
coast. He evacuated Camden ; thus acknowledging, that, 
though successful in a pitched battle, the necessary effect 
of the raanceuvres of the American general had been to 
gire him the superiority. And these results were the 



SIEGE OF FORT NINETY-SIX. 89 

Iruits of a single month of activity. The strong post of 
Nineiy-Six, or CambrifJge, was still held by the British 
under Colonel Cruger. The garrison consisted of near six 
hundred men, more than half of whom were regulars. 
The rest were loyalists, practised warriors, men of deadly 
aim with the rifle, and most of whom fought with a haltei 
round their necks. Tlie post was one to be defended to 
the last, at every ha^iard. Greefie's resources in the per- 
sonnel and matarid of warfare, were equally deficient, but 
he was resolved to make the most of his ])ossessions. He 
planted his standard before Ninety-Six, and began the 
leaguer. The defences were strong. They consisted of 
a redoubt consisting of sixteen salient and returning angles 
in the Ibrm of a siar. It was surrounded by a dry ditch, 
frieze, and abatis. On the opposite' si(Je, at a distance of 
one hundred and eighty yards, a stockade fort, strengthened 
by two block-houses, stood upon a gentle eminence. This 
fort was separated from the town by a small valley. A 
stream which ran through the valley supplied the garrison 
with waer. A covered way kept up the communication 
between tlie two places; and, as a defence on the right— 
the left being protected by the fort — an old jail had been 
converted into a citadel. The place thus strong, was still 
farther strengtheneil by the garrison, as the tidings reached 
them of Greene's approach. The whole force which the 
American general could bri.ig against them did not much 
exceed a thousand men. Mis chief engineer was the fa- 
mous Kosciuszko. The leaguers continued to advance. 
Day and night the labour was carried on. The skirmishes 
were incessant. The besieged made frequent sallies, 
'I'he spiiit of both parties continued to rise. A second 
parallel was at length completed — a mine had been begun 
— the enemy was summoned, and returned a defiance, and 
^ third parallel was in progress. The British guns were 
silenced — their works were overawed — and the siege was 
drawing to a close. It had continued eighteen days, 



90 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

The garrison was dispirited. Despairing of relief, Crugei 
must soon have yielded the post, when he received tidings 
of the approach of Lord Rawdon. Greene was already in 
possession of this knowledge. It was by means of a 
woman who had a lover in the British garrison, that 
Cruger received the tidings also. This strengthened his 
resolution; and nothing now was left to the American ge- 
neral but to attempt by assault, what he now could not 
hope to effect by the tedious process of the leaguer. Raw- 
don, eluding Marion and Sumter, was at hand with an 
overwhelming force. Not a day was to be lost. The as- 
sault w s made on ihe iSth June, at noonday. Lee, with 
the legion, wiih a detachment of Kirkwood's Delawares, 
was charged with the attack of the right. His forlorn hope 
was led by Major Rudolph. Campbell, with his own re- 
giment, ihe first Virginia, and a detachment of Maryland- 
ers, was to attempt the redoubt. Duval of Maryland, and 
Seldon of Virginia, commanded his forlorn hope. A con- 
stant fire from the forts and towers was to cover the as- 
sault, and sweep (he parapet for the attacking parties. 
The party commaiuied by Lee, and led by Rudolph, soon 
succeeded" in their object, and captured the fort. The at- 
tack on the redoubt was a far more serious mailer. At the 
signal of battle, the batteries and rifle tower opened their 
are, anil the several parties rushed forward to the murder 
ous struggle amid the smoke and thunder of artillery. 
Duval and Seldon, with their devoted bands, soon made 
their way into the ditch of the redoubt, and began to 
throw down the abatis. They were welcomed with a 
blaze of lightning on every side. Through every loop- 
hole and crevice did the fatal rifle pour forth its swift and 
certain death ; and the very overthrow of the abtitis, 
which went on steadily before their efforts, only the more 
exposed them to the deadly aim of the defenders. The 
Dattle raged fiercely, but not long, in this quarter. The 
ranks of the assailants were soon terribly thinned, as they 



FORT NINETY-SIX EVACUATED 91 

strove in the narrow pathway, hemmed in between two 
walls of fire, and met, whenever they strove at the waii.i 
above them, by a glittering array of pikes and bayonets 
Duval and Seldon were both stricken, but not mortally. 
Armstrong had fallen dead at the head of his company. 
But the survivors struggled on. The curtain was won ; 
and this was all. The conflict was too unequal to be con- 
tinued. Greene dared no longer cripple his army, with an 
enemy's force, like that of Rawdon, so near at hand. His 
troops were withdrawn — his wounded, even, brought ofT 
under a galling fire — and the leaguer was abandoned 
There was no good fortune to co-operate with the labours 
of the American general. Again was the victory plucked 
from his enjoyment when almost in his grasp. 

He had not simply to forego his prize ; — he had now to 
fly before the superior forces of his enemy. But Rawdon 
soon discontinued pursuit, and it was not long before he 
withdrew the garrison from Ninety-Six. The necessities 
of the British army rendered it necessary that they should 
concentrate in the neighbourhood of the seaboard. Greene 
wheeled about, at the first show of letreat on the part of 
Rawdon. The latter continued on his progress to Charles- 
ton. Orangeburg became the rendezvous of the British 
army. The Americans were t-ncouraged by several small 
successes. A force of the enemy's cavalry were captured 
by Lee, within a mile of their camp. A large supply of 
British stores were cut olf; the patriots were rapidly 
crowding to the ranks of the partisan commanders; and 
Greene once more pushed forward to try his fortunes in a 
pitched battle. He was now at the head of two thousand 
men ; most of whom were miliiia indeed; but they were 
led by Marion, Sumter, and Pickens, under whose eyes 
they always knew how to fight. But the oppressive heat 
of a southern summer interfered to check the arm of war, 
and a brief respite from tou was found among the salu- 
brious hills of Santee. Still, the light troops and the parti 



92 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

san militia were occasionally busy. Pickens was em- 
jkloyed to punish the Indians, whom he oveicaine in a man- 
ner new to their ex[)erience, hy invading them in their 
fortresses by mounted riflemen. Sumter, Marior., and 
Lee had shaken their flags in the faces of the British 
garrison, at Charleston; and the spirit of American valour 
was never more lively and enterprising than when the army 
was lying quiet, during the dogdays, in the camp of repose. 
It was during this period that the British executed Colonel 
Hayne, in Charleston, as a spy. Greene threatened a 
terrible retaliation for this crime ; and, but for the termi- 
nation of the war, would have executed his resolve un- 
sparingly. He writes to Marion — " It is not upon tory 
officers that I will retaliate, but upon the British." He 
felt the necessity — never so obvious as in time of war — 
of making himself feared by his enemy; if necessary, by 
the adoption of any practice of severity by which the wan- 
ton severities of the foe may be restrained. It was fortu- 
nate for humanity that fate interposed to arrest a warfare 
in which revenge was fast becoming a principle of common 
action. 

On the 22d of August, the camp of Greene was broken 
up. He had grown impatient of repose. " It must be 
victory or ruin," was his language ; and he crossed the 
Wateree to seek his enemy, who lay at the Eutaw Springs. 
But he had been disappointed of supplies and reinforce- 
ments. His resources were still very inferior. But some- 
thing must be periled, and he moved forward with equal 
silence and celerity. Stewart, who commanded the 
British, lay at Eutaw in a pleasant security, never dreaming 
of a foe. On the night of the 7ih of September, Greene 
slept beneath the green shadows of an olive oak, within 
seven miles of the British camp. The Americans were in 
motion at daybreak, the next morning. Stewart was 
thmking that morning of feeding, rather than fighting 
His foraging parties, laden with sweet potatoes, which they 



BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 9,^ 

had been gathering in the contiguous plantations, were 
suddenly surprised at this agreeable occupation by the 
advance of the Americans. The British were awakened 
from a pleasant slumber, to prepare for a struggle which 
roight conduct to one infinitely more profound. The po- 
sition taken by Stewart was one of considerable strenglh. 
On his right was the Eutaw creek, which issued from a 
deep ravine, thickly fringed with brush and underwood. 
The only open ground was an old cornfield, through which 
the public road now ran. This was commanded by a 
strong brick house, two stories high, the garret-windows 
furnishing a third story, from which the sharp-shooters could 
wing their murderous missiles to advantage. A garden 
in the rear of the building, surrounded by a strong pali- 
sade, extended to the edge of the creek. A barn and 
sundry olher outbuildings, furnished defensible places for 
temporary refuge and retreat. The country was well 
wooded all around. The British camp lay in the field, 
under cover of the house ; and, in marching out for battle, 
such was the unexpectedness of that event, their tents were 
suffered to remain standing. 

Stewart, with these advantages, naturally made a skilful 
disposition of his troops. His force was somewhat supe- 
rior numerically to that of Greene. They had been trained 
by an admirable discipline, though a portion of them con- 
sisted of European recruits, who had never been in action. 
He drew them out, with a large confidence in their capacity 
to keep their ground, occupying the skirt of the woods in 
front of the camp, and fully covering the Charleston road. 
A detachment of infantry, wiih one fieldpiece, was pushed 
forward, about a mile in advance of his line, to skirmish 
with and retard the American approach. The army of 
Greene advanced in two columns, each containing; the 
material of a line of battle. The first was composed of the 
njilitia of South and North Carolina, led by Marion, Pick- 
ens, and Malmedy. In the second, came the continentals. 



94 N A T n A N I K L GREENE. 

— contingents chiefly from jNIaryland, Virginia, and Nor(h 
Carolina. General Sumter commanded on the right ; 
Colonel Campbell led the centre, composed of Virginians ; 
and the left, consisting of Marylanders, was committed to 
Williams. Lee, with his legion, and Henderson, with the 
state troops, were charged with the protection of the flank. 
Washington, with his cavalry, and the dcbns of Kirk- 
wood's command of Delawares, formed the reserve. The 
artillery, four pieces in all, was equally divided between 
the columns of attack, and moved Mith them. 

About tour miles from Eutaw, Lee and Henderson en- 
countered a detachment of the British cavalry, who, mis- 
taking the ailva!ice for a party of militia, only rushed upon 
their ruin in rushing to the attack. They were dispersed, 
leaving several dead, ami forty prisoners to the Americans. 
Believing this to be the advance of the enemy, Greene pro- 
ceeded to display his first column, moving slowly forward 
in order of battle. Lee and Henderson, supported by 
Williams, and the two pieces of artillery confided to his 
column, soon came in conflict with the British van, which 
was quickly driven in upon its main body, the American 
line pressing forward, and firing as it advanced, until 
halted by the presence of the enemy's whole array. Stewart, 
finding himself as yet opposed to militia only, was disposed 
to take the struggle coolly and with inditfereiice. His men 
were ordered to keep their ranks and repel the assailants 
by their fire only, — which, from regulars, was supposed to 
be quite enough for the dispersion of mere railitia. But 
these were not mere militia ; — they were the partisans of 
Marion and Pickens; and, under such leaders, had a confi- 
dence in their strength and securities which made them quite 
as stubborn as veterans. Fire answered to fire, and Marion's 
men always made their mark. They held their ground 
unwavering. The legion infantry of Lee was engaged 
with the British sixty-third, on the right ; Avhile on the 
left, Henderson, with the state troops, was compelled to 



BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 96 

endure a galling fire from a neighbouring thicket, where 
Majoribanks was posted with a battalion of light infantry. 
Never did militiamen do better duty than on this occa- 
sion. They yielded only to the whole weight of the 
British army, enforced by the forward movement of the 
bayonet, but nol till they had delivered seventeen rounds 
a man. Their places were supplied by the troops under 
Sumner, composed of new levies also. Greene was hold- 
ing back his regulars — the continentals of Williams and 
Howard — for the last grand effort. Sumner brought his 
men handsomely into action. The battle soon raged with 
renewed violence; and the British gave back, unable to 
withstand the galling severity of the American fire. 

Stewart felt that every thing was at hazard. The second 
line of the Americans had only partially engaged in the 
action. Their cavalry and reserve were still fresh, while, 
with the exception of the reserve, the whole of the British 
army had been breathed by the battle. Without loss of 
time, bringing up his reserve, he condensed his line, and, 
posting his cavalry under Coffin, on the left, for its better 
protection from Washington's horse, he apposed a new 
and firmer front to the fierce fire of the Americans. The 
latter were now overbalanced by this accession to the 
British force. Henderson was wounded, and the centre 
yielded. At this sight the British pressed forward witii a 
shout, deeming the field already won. This was the mo- 
ment for Greene's unemployed battalion. " Let Williams 
and Campbell sv.'eep the field with their bayonets," was 
the order which the two brigades hastened to obey. At 
the same moment, observing that the American right now 
extended beyond the enemy's left, Lee ordered iludolph 
to turn their flank, and pour in a destructive fire. The 
air rang with opposing shot and shout. The biigade of 
Maryland rushed upon" their foes without pulling trigger 
The Virginians, less practised in action, returned the fire 
of the British, and their gallant leader, Campbell, received 



96 N A T II A N I E L G R E E N E. 

his inoi' al wouiul at lliis iiregnant inonuMit. Bui ihe ardoiir 
of the AiiH'ric':uis was unchecked by the.se unj^torUines. 
Their bohl assault and eager fuing inspired a jianic on the 
British left which .-oon extended to the cenire. Tliey 
shrunk, with the exception of the BufTs, from tlie searching 
thrust of the bayonet ; and these opjiosed themselves to 
the rush of the Americans in vain. Pressing forward in a 
compact line upon the ranks already disordered by the 
b.iyonet, they delivered a sheet of (ire which swept the 
opjiosing masses tVom the paih. The rout promised (o be 
complete. Thi' British seemed to be di-spersed. Their 
fugitives hurried olf madly upon the Charleston road, car- 
rying the news of their defeat to the metropolis, and filling 
their friends every where with terror. The Americans pressed 
the pursuit until they fell in with the Briash tents, as they 
had been left siantling, and filled with such creature com- 
forts, ready to their hands, as they h;id not for a long season 
been permitted to enjoy. The temptation was too great for 
discipline. Their ranks were broken. They crowded the 
tents, and in the conviction of a victory completely won, 
gave themselves up to the gratification of their appe- 
tites. The dainties and strong drink of their enemies 
achieved what their weapons and valour had not done ; 
and the British general, peculiarly fortunate in the post 
which he had taken, anil in his own and the coolness of 
certain of his chiet's and soldiers, prepareil to take aiivan- 
tage of the disorder among his foes. The British camp 
was commanded by the brick house already described, 
into which JMajor Sheridan had thrown himself with a large 
body of the fugitives. He had gained this shelter with 
difficulty, some of the pursuing Americans ha\ ing nearly 
succeeded in entering along with him. But the point once 
gained was a fortress, upon which the fugitives could still 
fall back, and find protection. Majoribanks, with his bat- 
talion, still held his ground in the close thicket, by which 
tJie Eutaw creek was covered. Ic was in vain that the 



BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS. 97 

Americans struggled to dislodge him. Attempting to 
penetrate the dense forest lastness of blackjack^ Washington 
spurred forward wilh his cavalry; but a destructive fire 
received his command, spread death and coniusion among 
them, brought down all but two of his officers, and his 
own horse having been slain, he himself was made a pri- 
soner. The Delawares advanced witli'ihe bayonet, and, 
supported by the remains of the cavalry led by Hampton, 
renewed the effort to dislodge this stubborn enemy. The 
attempt was made in vain. The position was too strong, 
and too firmly maintained. Majoribanks was at length 
enabled to fall back upon the house which Sheridan oc- 
cupied, and to take a new position in the picketed garden 
in its rear. Coffin drew up his cavalry across the Charles- 
ton road ; and, thus supported, Stewart once more pro 
ceeded in the effijrt to reform his line of battle. 

Greene, meanwhile, pressing forward to complete his 
victory, brought up his artillery against the house. But 
the weight of metal was too small for his object, the pieces 
were brought unhappily too closely within the range of 
the building, and the artillerists were swept down before 
the incessant fire of its musketry. Seizing this moment to 
charge and trample down the Auiericaiis, who had so 
rashly scattered themselves among the British tents. Coffin 
wilh his cavalry from one side, and Majoribanks with his 
light troops from the other, hurried forward. Eggleston, 
with a portion of the legion cavalry, vainly opposed him- 
self to this movement. Coffin pressed forward, and the half 
inebriate .soldiers would have been massacred to a man, but 
for the timely arrival of Hampton, who had succeeded to 
the command of Washington's horse. He drove back the 
British cavalry, but the pursuit brought him within the 
range of the fire of Majoribanks. under which his troop was 
again broken and repulsed. As they retired to the woods. 
Majoribanks seized the moment to snatch the two piece.s 
of American artillery from the field, where it had beeo 

Vol. I. 9 G 



98 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

»- 

brought forward to batter the house. Dragging this trophy 
off in triumph, he was not diverted from the more sub- 
stantial service of scattering and destroying the Americans, 
who still lingered among the tents. Under these auspices, 
the British line was formed anew, and put in order of 
battle. Greene rallied his forces in the wood. The battle 
was not renewed.* It was only not a victory. The ad- 
vantages all lay with the Americans. In a few hours, the 
British decamped for Charleston. Seventy of their wounded 
were left to the care of Greene, who made five hundred pri- 
soners. Stewart destroyed his stores, his surplus materiel 
of all kinds, and succeeded, though at great cost of life, in 
eluding the pursuit of Marion and Lee, who hung upon 
his rear, and harassed his retreat. Greene's losses were 
severe. The battle had been fought in one of the hottest 
days in September, and his weary and wounded soldiers, 
thirsting for water, plunged headlong into a neighbouring 
pond which was soon turbid with their blood. 

At no time adequately supplied with men and muni- 
tions, Greene found himself at this moment much more 
feeble than ever. Weary marches, inferior food, want of 
water, continued and arduous service, a sickly climate, with 
the intense heat of the season, rendered repose absolutely 
essential to safety. He could achieve nothing, could at- 
tempt nothing. Reinforcements from Virginia and Maryland 
were cut off, in consequence of the call for troops in 
those states, rendered pressingly necessary by the presence 
of Cornwallis. The months of September and October 
wore away slowly without bringing help or encourage- 
ment. The British army, more than two thousand in 
number, posted near Nelson's Ferry, were plundering the 
country through their light armed troops. Against these, 
the American general could only operate through the par- 
tisan generals, whose troops generally lessened in number, 
as the militiamen were required to superintend the gathei" 
big of thtir harvests. To tend the fields and fight the 



BRITISH RETREAT TO CHARLESTON. 99 

enemy was the twofold duty of a class of troops, whom it 
has been the too frequent habit to disparage. 

On the Qih November, Cornwallis surrendered at York- 
town, and this event brought reinforcements to the army 
of the south. Greene instantly proceeded to put his troops 
in motion. They had lost no heart by their sufferings — 
had learned, on the contrary, to feel their strength, and to 
estimate, without exaggeration, that of the invader. The 
latter had suffered in morale^ after the affair of the Eutaws. 
Their cavalry no longer waited for that of the Americans; 
and, though still inferior in numbers to the British force, 
Greene determined to attcinpi his post at Dorchester by 
surprise. His approach was communicated to its com- 
mander in season to enable him to draw in his detach- 
ments, destroy his stores, and retreat to Charleston. By 
a corresponding movement, Stewart fell back from Goose 
creek, upon the same point. The manceuvres, by which 
these results were {)roduced, would require details which 
our space will not allow. Enough that Washington, 
speaking of Greene, remarks of them as affording << another 
proof of the singular abilities which that officer possesses." 
The Americans were gradually contracting the limits of 
their enemies. The cordon militaire grew daily more and 
more rigid. Marion and Lee guarded the district lying 
between the rivers Cooper and Ashley, the communication 
being kept open by Hampton of the state cavalry ; and the 
activity of these commands soon cooped up the British 
within the immediate precincts of Charleston and its tri- 
butary islands along the sea. Within these limits, looking 
daily for assault, they proceeded to arm the negroes — a 
desperate measure which declared equally their feeble- 
ness and fears. • . 

Greene, unhappily, was not prepared to attempt either 
assault or siege. The leaguer of a walled city was beyond 
his numbers and artillery. He had neither tents, nor am- 
munition, nor axes, nor kettles, nor canteens, except In 



100 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

such small quantity as better to display his deficienciea 
than his possessions. Meanwhile advices reached him of 
a British fleet from Ireland with three thousand troops on 
board, witliin two days' sail of Charleston. Reinforce 
ments were also reported to be on their way from New 
York. These were alarming tidings. Fortunately, they 
were grossly exaggerated. Sixty ariillerists from Ireland, 
a couple of regiments, and a hundred and fifty dismounted 
dragoons from New York, was the total of the increase of 
British force in Charleston. But the anxiety of Greene, 
while in (he belief that the report was true, kept him in 
constant activity and exercise. Supplies, which had been 
promised months before, had failed to come ; troops under 
St. Clair an(i Wayne, which, a year before, had been or- 
dered to his assistance, had not yet shown themselves; and 
the prospect that presented itself to the American com- 
mander in the south, was that of the loss of all that he had 
gained, and a second painful retreat such as he had been 
compelled to make when Cornwallis pursued him to the 
Dan. But though mortified, doubtful, and apprehensive, 
Greene had lost no nerve in considering his melancholy 
prospects. His soul was rather strengthened than subdued 
by what he saw before him. His resolution, deliberately 
taken, was "to fight, and fight hard, too, so that, if beaten, 
the wounds of his enemy should at least prevent his pur- 
suit." 

The more agreeable news, which showed the exaggera- 
tion of former tidings, encouraged the American general 
to newer enterprises. To complete the recovery of the 
country around Charleston, nothing remained but to drive 
the enemy from the position which they held upon John's 
Island. To Lee and Laurens- it was entrusted to effect this 
object, by an attack conducted' in the night. But the at- 
tempt was only partially successful. One of the columns 
lost its way. But the scare was enough. Apprized of the 
attempt, and anticipating its renewal, the British post was 



COMPLIMENT TO GREENE, 101 

withdrawn to the city. With the exception of Charleston, 
the whole of South Carolina was once more in possession 
of 'ts people. The campaign of 1781 closed, leaving it so. 
The assembly of the state was called together, at the 
opening of 1782, at the little village of Jacksonborough, 
on the Edisto, and within striking distance of the British. 
In the assembly, the governor paid a high compliment to 
the "great and gallant General Greene — his wisdom, pru- 
dence, address and bravery" — to which the assembly with 
one voice responded. The senate voted him an address 
of thanks for "the distinguished zeal and generalship 
which he had displayed on every occasion" — and the 
house of representatives rendered the acknowledgment 
more memorable and emphatic, by vesting in him "ten 
thousand guineas." These compliments and this appro 
priation were of grateful and large importance to his feel- 
ings and his interests. He had been bitterly reviled by slan- 
derous tongues, and his private resources were exhausted. 
The improved prospect of the war did not lead to any 
relaxation of the vigilance of the American general. He 
projected a night attack upon Charleston, by floating down 
the Ashley ; but the scheme was reluctantly abandoned as 
impracticable. The winter wore away in quiet, broken 
only by the occasional appearance of small parties from 
the city, who seldom lingered to be embraced. Towards 
the opening of spring, there was bustle in the enemy's 
lines denoting movement. Little did Greene anticipate 
their present schemes, or the hopes upon which they were 
grounded. They were fortunately discovered in season. 
Failing to conquer in the field, the British had resorted to 
a similar agency with that which was to have given West 
Point to their keeping. There was discontent in the Ame- 
rican camp of which they availed themselves. The Penn- 
sylvania line, which was already notorious for revolt, had 
joined the army, and the ancient spirit revived in a new 
form. Some of the old mutineers were ready to sell the 

9* 



102 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

army and their commander to the British general. The 
day was appointed, the snares laid, and the British troops 
were set in motion agreeable to the plan of action. But 
the fidelity of a woman defeated the treacherous scheme. 
Gornell, a Serjeant, was hung as the principal traitor, while 
four others were sent in chains into the interior, and there 
kept safe from farther mischief Twelve other conspira- 
tors deserted to the enemy the night of Gornell's arrest. 

This bold conspiracy, thus crushed in the moment of 
performance, put the finishing blow to the hopes of the 
British. As Greene drew nearer to the metropolis. Gene- 
ral Leslie, commanding in Charleston, proffered a cessa- 
tion of hostilities, in view of an approaching peace ; but, 
though unable to decide upon a proposition which wholly 
lay with Congress, Greene saw that the war was virtually 
at an end. The summer was passed in inactivity, but 
with no relaxation of vigilance. In July, the camp of 
the Americans was within sixteen miles of Charleston. 
The garrison grew straitened for provisions, and the at- 
tempts to supply them resulted in a skirmish in which the 
gallant Laurens, the Bayard of the American army, was 
killed. This was the closing event in the bloody struggle. 
The evacuation of Charleston followed, of which place 
Greene took possession on the 14th December, making a 
triumphant entry, under a mixed civil and military escort, 
and with the governor by his side. The war was over. 
The southern army was dissolved, though not before some 
unpleasant controversies had arisen between the civil and 
the military arm within the state of South Carolina, in which 
Greene took the part of the soldiery, but without losing 
the affections of the people. The last days of his public 
c areer were consumed in cares and anxieties. Imprudently, 
he became security for an army contractor, whicii involved 
him in pecuniary loss and difficulty, by which the closing 
hours of his life were embittered. Yiehiing his command, 
ne returned to Newport, where he first began to discover 



GREENE REMOVES TO GEORGIA. 103 

alarming symptoms of suffering and debility. His private 
affairs called him to Charleston. Banks, the man by 
whose obligations he had been ruined, and whom it was im- 
portant he should see, fled at his approach. Greene pur- 
sued him on horseback for more than four hundred miles 
over routes which he had frequently traversed at the head 
of his army. He overtook the fugitive only to see him 
die. The miserable man had fled from the city with a 
mortal fever in his veins. He had fled from his creditor 
to find security in death. The event was fatal to Greene's 
fortunes. He was forced to sacrifice his estates in Caro- 
lina for half their value. His friends counselled an appeal 
to Congress which he offered in a memorial entreating 
indemnity in case of final loss. It does not appear that 
the application was successful. 

, Meanwhile, he removed to Georgia, establishing himself 
on a plantation, at Mulberry Grove, on the Savannah. He 
had scarcely done so, when he was challenged by Captain 
Gunn, of the army, who deemed himself wronged by a 
decision, in regard to the taking and capture of a h.orse, 
which Greene had made, while his superior officer. 
Greene declined the meeting, refusing to sanction, by his 
example, a proceeding which would be fatal to all dis- 
cipline and all subordination among the several grades 
of an army. He consulted the opinion of Washington, 
who justified his course. 

The peace and repose afforded by plantation life, so 
different from the turmoil and strife of the preceding eio-ht 
years, were productive of the nappiest effects upon the 
mind of Greene. He possessed a lively sympathy with 
the aspects of the natural world, — rejoiced in the songs of 
birds, and the sight of flowers, — the peace and glory of 
the woods, and the growth of plants and fruits. An un- 
happy exposure to the intense fervor of a southern sun, shoot- 
ing its piercing arrows amid the humid atmosphere which 
overhangs the fertile but rank and unwholesome limits of 



104 NATHANIEL GREENE. 

the hce region, put a fatal termination to this brief period 
of enjoyment and repose. He sank under the pestilential 
influence, on the 19th June, 1786, in spite of the most 
assiduous care, and the best ability of his medical attend- 
ants. The melancholy event called forth the lamentations 
of the country. The people of Georgia and Carolina as- 
sisted at his burial with the profoundest demonstrations of 
respect and grief. He was in the prime of manhood, — 
but forty-four years of age, — when he was thus suddenly 
snatched from his country and friends. His reputation, 
great at the time, has since been constantly on the rise. 
His moral character and genius were not unlike those of 
Washington. He was a man of method, industry, of 
calm, equable temper, — capable of bearing reverses without 
complaint, and of enjoying victory without exultation. 
He was a wise man, who could think in advance of the 
exigency, and thus provide against it; — a brave man, who 
could not be forced to fight, except when he thought 
proper; — a good man, against whom no reproaches sur- 
vive ; — a great man, who served his country with success 
and fidelity, and has not yet received his proper acknow- 
ledgment at her hands. 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 

Anthony Wayne was born on the 1st of January, 
1745, in the township of Easttown, Chester county, in 
the state of Pennsylvania. His father, Isaac Wayne, 
was a native of Ireland — a country whose sons and 
their descendants have contributed largely to the pros- 
perity and honour of America. It is said that his early 
thoughts were tinged with a military feeling; and his 
exclusive devotion while at school to mathematical 
science, and afterwards to engineering, was the result 
of his desire, at some future day, to adopt the army as 
his profession. 

The occupation of Mr, Wayne, from the time of his 
marriage, in 1767, to th'fe year 1774, was that of a 
farmer, and land-surveyor, in his native county. He 
was elected a member of the Pennsylvania legislature, 
of 1774-5 ; and in the summer of 1775, was a mem- 
ber of the Committee of Public Safety. The approach 
ing contest revived the strong inclination of his earlier 
years ; and he began a course of military study, the 
aid of which he was soon called upon to bring to the 
service of his country. Having resigned his seat 
in the legislature, he raised, in September, 1775, a regi- 
ment of volunteers; and on the 3d of January, 1776, 
received from Congress the commission of colonel of 
one of the regiments to be raised for Pennsylvania. 
His popularity enabled him speedily to raise his legi- 
men*, and at the opening of the campaign of 1776, 
he was ordered with it to New York, and from thence 
to Canada. Under the command of the unfortunate 
General Sullivan, his regiment joined the expedition to 

105 



106 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

Canada which was defeated at Three Rivers. Great 
distinction was the result of Colonel Wayne's good 
conduct on this occasion, and he received a wound in the 
course of his successful efforts to effect the retreat of the 
troops, who were, after the evacuation of Canada, con- 
centrated at Ticonderoga, the care of which was com- 
mitted to him by Gen. Schuyler. On the 21st of Feb- 
ruary, 1777, Congress appointed Colonel Wayne a 
brigadier-general, and in May of that year joined the 
army of Washington, in New Jersey, where in a short 
time his brigade exhibited the discipline and energy 
which so eminently, on future occasions, distinguished 
the Pennsylvania Line. The public testimonial of the 
commander-in-chief to "the large share of bravery 
and good conduct" of General Wayne, in driving the 
enemy from the state of New Jersey, was followed by 
his official report to Congress, in June, 1777, in which 
he repeated his approbation. The British army having 
left New York, and their destination having been ascer- 
tained. General Washington directed General Wayne 
to proceed to Chester, in Pennsylvania, to organize 
the militia force which were ordered to assemble there, 
while the commander-in-chief, with the whole army, 
proceeded to the neighbourhood of the Brandywine, 
where an action was fought on the 11th of September, 
1777, in which, — though the day was against Ame- 
rica — the valour of many of the corps of her soldiers 
sustained her honour. The most conspicuous were 
the brigades of Wayne and Weedon, the third Virginia 
regiment commanded by Colonel Marshall, and the 
artillery commanded by Colonel Proctor of Pennsyl- 
vania. Though defeated, and inferior in numbers, the 
American army was not disheartened or broken, but 
advanced, on the 16th of September, to give the enemy 
battle near the Warren tavern on the Lancaster road; 
«.ad the action was actually begun by General Wayne, 



WAYNE DEMANDS A COURT OF INQUIRY. 107 

who led the advance, Avith great resohition, when a sud- 
den and violent tempest, and a drenching rain, rendered it 
impossible for either army to maintain the contest, and they 
separated. The main body of the American army having 
retired up the Schuylkill, the division of General Wayne 
was directed by General Washington to move forward on 
the enemy, and if possible to cut oflf their baggage. He 
took a well-selected position, about a mile to the south of 
the Warren tavern ; but the neighbourhood being inha- 
bited by many traitors, his arrangements became known 
to the British, who marched to attack him on the night 
of the 20th September, and reached his encampment, 
through by-roads under the guidance of persons familiar 
with the country. About eleven o'clock at night, Major- 
General Gray assaulted the pickets, and drove them in at 
the point of the bayonet, and thus gave intimation of his 
near approach. The division, however, was quickly 
formed by its general, who was not unprepared for the 
occurrence ; and while its right gallantly sustained a fierce 
attack, a retreat was directed by the left, and the whole 
were again formed not far from the ground, on which the' 
action commenced. Very different accounts of this affair 
are given by the American and English writers; — the 
remarks made in the army on the subject of it induced 
GeneralWaynetodemandacourtof inquiry, which, after a 
careful investigation, were unanimously of opinion, " that 
he had done every thing to be expected from an active, 
brave, and vigilant officer," and " acquitted him with the 
highest honour." 

Philadelphia having fallen into the possession of General 
Howe, who encamped a considerable portion of his army 
at Germantown, the vigilance of the American com- 
mander-in-chief enabled him to ascertain that three of the 
enemy's regiments were detached to keep open the land 
communication with Chester, until the forts on Mud Island 
and Billingsport could be reduced, and the navigation 



108 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 



opened to the British fleet to move up the Delaware to 
the city, and that four other regiments were there stationed 
to do garrison duty, the idea of falling upon, and destroying 
the camp at Germanlown quickly suggested itself to his 
energetic mind, A careful reconnoitring of the enemy's 
position having been made, Washington moved to the 
attack on the 3d of October, 1777, at seven o'clock in 
the evening. The force employed was divided into two 
columns, of which Wayne's and Sullivan's divisions, and 
Conway's brigade formed the right, and took the Chestnut 
Hill road, Stirling's division following in reserve. Greene's 
and Stephen's divisions, with M'Dougall's brigade, and 
about fourteen hundred Maryland and New Jersey militia, 
formed the column of the left, and moved along the Old 
York and Limekiln roads ; while a division of Pennsyl- 
vania militia, under Armstrong, proceeded by the Ridge 
road. The plan of attack assigned the k-ft flank of the 
enemy's right wing to the troops under Wayne, Sullivan, 
and Conway ; those under Greene, Stephen, and M'Dou- 
gall, were to fall upon its right flank, while Armstrong was 
to assail the western portion of the British camp. 

Bravely and effectually was the duty committed to 
Wayne performed. The picket at Mount Airy was fiercely 
charged upon, and though reinforced by the fortieth regi- 
ment, and a battalion of light infantry, the position was 
carried, and the enemy driven more than two miles, and 
into the village of Germantown. No better account of 
his share of the engagement can be furnished than is given 
in his own letter, written on the 6th of October, de- 
scribing the battle. 

" Camp, near Pawling' s Mills, October 6th, 1777. 

" On the 4lh instant, at the dawn of day, we attacked 
General Howe's army at the upper end of Germantown ; 
the action soon became general, when we advanced on 
the enemy with charged bayonets ; they broke at first, 
without waiting to receive us, but soon formed again, 



THE BATTLb OF GERMANTOWN. 



109 



when a heavy and well-directed fire took place on each 
side. The enemy gave way, but being supported by the 
grenadiers retured to the charge. General Sullivan's di- 
vision and Conway's brigade were at this time engaged to 
the south of Gerraantown, whilst my division had the 
right wing of the enemy's army to encounter, on the north 
of the town ; two-thirds of our army being too far to the 
north to afford us any assistance. However, the unparal- 
leled bravery of our troops surmounted every difficulty, 
and obliged the enemy to break and run in the utmost 
confusion. Our people, remembering the action of the 
night of the 20th of September, pushed on with their 
bayonets, and took ample vengeance for that night's work. 
Our officers exerted themselves to save many of the poor 
wretches who were crying for mercy, but to little purpose ; 
the rage and fury of the soldiers were not to be restrained 
for some time — at least, not until great numbers of the 
enemy fell by their bayonets. The fog, together with the 
smoke occasioned by our cannon and musketry, made it 
almost as dark as night, and our people, mistaking each 
other for the enemy, frequently exchanged shots before 
they discovered their error. We had now pushed the 
enemy near three miles, and were in possession of their 
whole encampment, when a large body of troops were dis- 
covered advancing on our left flank, which being taken 
for the enemy, our men fell back, in defiance of every 
exertion of the officers to the contrary, and after retreating 
about two miles, they were discovered to be our own 
people, who were originally intended to attack the right 
wing of the enemy. The fog and this mistake prevented 
us from following a victory that in all human probability 
would have put an end to the American war. General 
Howe for some time could not persuade himself that we 
had run away from victory, but the fog clearing off", he ven- 
tured to follow us with a large body of his infantry, grena- 
diers, and light horse. At this time being in the rear, with 
Vol. I. 10 



110 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 



the view of collecting the stragglers of our retreating army, 
and lin(ii\ig the enemy deternnneci to push us hard, drew 
up in order of battle and awaited their approach. When 
they advanced sulliciently near, we gave them a few can- 
non shot. Not being pleased with this reception, oui 
pursuers broke and retired — thus ended the action of that 
day, which continued from daylight until near 10 o'clock. 
I had tbrgot to mention that my roan horse was killed 
under me, within a few yards of the enemy's front, and 
my lefl foot a little bruised by a spent ball, but not so 
much so as to })revent me from walking. My poor horse 
received one musket ball in the breast and one in the dank, 
at the same instant that I had a slight touch on *iy left 
hand, which is scarcely worth noticing. 

" Upon the whole it was a glorious day. Our men are 
in high spirits, and I am confident we shall give them a 
total defeat the next action, which is at no great distance 

" My best love and wishes to all friends. 

*' Anthony Wayne." 

It is not one of the objects of the present sketch to dis- 
cuss the causes which turned the tide of victory, and ren- 
dered a retreat necessary ; — they were various, and confu- 
sion and dilhculty is encountered in estimating them. But, 
it was the good fortune of General Wayne to cover the 
retreat, and to save a portion of the greatly fatigued troops 
from capture by the enemy. The tire of a battery es- 
tablished by him, on a rising ground, near Whitemarsh 
church, was so ellective, that it obliged the pursuing 
troops to retire, and give up further pursuit. 

The privations and misery endured by the American 
army, during the winter of 1777, at Valley Forge, can 
hardly at this distant time be realized. It was exposed to 
dissolution from almost actual starvation ; and a large por- 
tion of it was unable to tlo tluty, being so nearly naked as 
to be obliged to keep in the huts, which were constructed 



WAYNE OBTAINS SUPPLIES. Ill 

as protection against, the severity of the weather. T'na 
commissariat alone was unable to afford relief to such a 
state of destitution, and recourse was had by the com- 
mander-in-chief to military forage over an extent of coun- 
try surrounding his position. As this could not last, 
however, it became necessary to obtain supplies from a 
greater distance, and to combine with the operation that 
of preventing the enemy from converting to his own use 
the subsistence so much wanted by the continental army. 
General Wayne was assigned to this duty, which was 
commenced about the middle of February, in very severe 
weather, and carried into complete effect, in the district 
of country extending from Bordentown to Salem, in New 
Jersey, then within the lines of the enemy. Some 
hundreds of fat cattle, many excellent horses for the 
cavalry, and a great quantity of forage, were the fruits of 
this most opportune expedition, which returned to camp 
in less than a month ; not, however, without some serious 
encounters with the enemy, in which the bravery of << the 
line," at a distance from any support from the main array, 
well seconded the energetic and rapid dispositions of its 
general. The relief afforded to the suffering at camp was 
of the most important character. 

General Howe, after spending the winter of 1777-S in 
Philadelphia, in a state of extraordinary inactivity, re- 
signed the command of the British army, and was suc- 
ceeded by Sir Henry Clinton, who arrived there early in 
June, 1778, and, in obedience to a positive order, imme- 
diately began to evacuate the city. For some time doubts 
were entertained as to the course of the enemy's retreat ; 
but, so soon as it was ascertained that it was through New 
Jersey, to reach New York, the American army was put 
in motion, and, having crossed the Delaware at Coryell's 
ferry, moved on towards Cranberry in pursuit of him. 
Morgan's corps, and detachments under Generals Maxwell, 
Scott, and Cadwalader, were pushed forward to harass the 



112 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

rear of the retreating force. On the 17th June, a council 
of war wns held, ar'l, of the seventeen general officers 
present, Wayne and Cadwalader alone were for batlle, to 
which opinion Lafayette inclined. The council was again 
convened on the 24ih June, but their opinion was not 
substantially different from that given on the 17th. Wayne, 
however, — Cadwalader being absent, — dissented, and re- 
tained his first opinion. 

On the 25th June, it was ascertained that Clinton had 
taken the Monmouth road to New York, and Washington, 
whose anxious inclination to engage the enemy derived 
support from the opinion of Wayne, resolved to do so on 
his ow^n responsibility. To carry his views into effect. 
General Wayne was directed to join the detachments 
already made ; and the whole force, thus increased to four 
thousand men, becoming a major-general's command, was 
placed under the orders of Lafayette, with directions "to 
lose no favourable opportunity of attacking the enemy's 
rear." Proceeding at once to execute the orders, La- 
fayette, on the 26th June, took a position on the Monmouth 
road, in the rear of the British camp, from which he was 
distant about five miles ; but, as the main body of the 
American army was not yet sufficiently advanced to support 
him, his corps moved back to Englishlown, on the 27lh, 
and Lee's division formed a junction with it, the com- 
mand of the whole devolving on him, as the senior major- 
general. The British army began to move, about day- 
break, on the 28th, and Lee was ordered by Washington 
to advance, and fall upon its rear, " unless prevented by 
powerful reasons ;" and assurance was given him that he 
would be supported by the main body of the army. The 
error of Lee, in supposing that the British rear guard was 
but about two thousand men, led him to order Wayne to 
advance upon them, with seven hundred men, and two 
pieces of artillery, while he endeavoured to gain their 
front, and cut them off" from the main army. His decep- 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 113 

tion was only removed by his personal reconnoissance of 
the enemy's force, which revealed to him the fact that he 
was advancing upon, and was within striking distance of 
;heir main body. Sir Henry Clinion had ascertained that 
there was an increasing force hanging on his rear, and, 
fearful that an attack might be made upon the baggage and 
provision train, reversed the order of march which he had 
heretofore observed, and, having sent Knyphausen to the 
front with them, collected the flower of his army in the 
rear. His object was soon developed, — upon the advance 
of Lee from the heights of P>eehold, Clinton suddenly 
turned upon him, intending to crush him before he could 
be supported by Washington. A severe action was the 
result of the movement, which was repulsed by the steadi- 
ness and good conduct of the troops of Wayne, who, 
being unsupported, were obliged to fall back upon the rest 
of Lee's corps, then, by that officer's order, in full retreat. 
Difficulty was experienced in joining them, when the 
arrival of the commander-in-chief, with reinforcements, 
changed the face of afiairs, and extricated Lee. A severe 
action immediately took place between the two armies, 
which ended in the discomfiture and retreat of the Bri- 
tish. The best concise account we have seen of the part 
General Wayne bore in it, is in the following character- 
istic letter. 

Spottswood, July \st, 1847. 
" On Sunday, the 28th of June, our flying army came 
m view of the enemy, about eight o'clock in the morning, 
when I was ordered to advance and attack them with a 
few men, the remainder of the corps, under General Lee, 
was to have supported me ; we accordingly advanced, and 
received a charge from the British horse and infantry, 
which was soon repulsed. Our general, however, thought 
proper to order a retreat, in place of advancing, without 
firing a single shot, the enemy following in force, which len- 
dered u very difficult for the small force I had to gain the 

10* H 



114 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

main body, being hard pushed and frequently nearly s\ir« 
rounded. After falling back almost a mile, we met his 
excellency, who, surprised at our retreat, knowing that 
officers as well as men were in high spirits, and wished for 
nothing more than to be faced about and meet the British 
fire, accordingly ordered me to keep post where he met 
us, having a body of troops wiih two pieces of artillery 
then under my command, and to keep the enemy in play 
until he had an opportunity of forming the main army and 
restoring order. 

" We had just taken post, when the enemy began their 
attack, with horse, foot, and artillery; the fire of their 
united force obliged us, after a severe conflict, to give 
way ; after which a most severe cannonade, accompanied 
by small arms, was opened by our left wing on the enemy, 
which gave them an etl'ectual check. During the interval, 
which this occasioned, every possible exertion was made 
use of by his excellency and the other generals to spirit up 
the troops, and prepare them for another trial. 

" The enemy began to advance again in a heavy column, 
with the view of turning our left tlank, but in this they 
failed. They then made a similar effort on our right, and, 
whilst our artillery was handsomely playing on them, I 
advanced with a strong body of troops, — we met the 
enemy, — the contest was exceedingly warm and well 
maintained on each side for a considerable timf> , at length 
victory declared for us; British courage failed, and was 
forced to give way to American valour. 

" After retreating some considerable distance, the ene- 
my took a strong position. General Washington, although 
many of our men were falling with thirst, heat, and fatigue, 
resolved to renew the acnon, and made his disposition for 
that purpose, but night prevented their final execution. 

" We encamped on the field of battle, with a view ol 
recommencing the action in the morning ; but Sn- Henry 
deemed U prudent to evade this, by retreating in the dead 



Washington's opinion of waynf. 115 

of night; after having interred many of his killed, yet 
leaving us to bury some of his distinguished officers, and 
two hundred and forty-five of his soldiers, oesides taking 
charge of a great number of his wounded. Our loss in 
this affair consists of a few gallant officers killed and 
wounded, and many brave soldiers in a similar state. 

" Every general and other o'licer (one excepted did 
every thing that could be expected on this great occasion, 
but Pennsylvania shpwed the road o victory. 

" Anthony Wayne." 

Great credit and honour was accorded to Genpral 
Wayne for his conduct on the occasion, by the coun'ry 
and the army; and the commander-in-chief in his official 
report to Congress, said, "The catalogue of those who dis- 
tinguished themselves is too long to admit of particular- 
izing individuals. I cannot, however, forbear to men- 
tion Brigadier-General Wayne, whose good conduct and 
bravery throughout the action deserves particular commen- 
dation." 

We approach the most brilliant incident of the "hot, 
bloody trial" of the revolution — the storming of Stony 
Point. It was an enterprise peculiarly suited to " Penn- 
sylvania's General," and the manner of its execution and 
success do credit to the selection made by the commander- 
in-chief for the service. Stony Point was a strong post on 
the Hudson, which commanded King's Ferry, the usual 
communication between the Eastern and Middle States, 
and was of great importance to the enemy should they de- 
sire to strike at the posts on the Highlands. It was 
strongly fortified, was protected by the river on two sides, 
by a deep morass on a third, which the tide overflowed, 
two rows of abatis surrounded the hill, and breastworks 
and artillery rendered the summit, in the opinion of its 
defender?, impregnable. The garrison consisted of six 



116 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

hundred infantry, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel 
Johnston. 

On the l5tli*July, 1779, the troops were put in motion 
at Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles from the post to be 
attacked, and arrived near it at eight o'clock in the even- 
ing. They were formed into two columns as they came 
up. Febiger's and Meigs' regiments and HulTs detach- 
ment formed the right column, and the left consisted of 
Butler's regiment, and Major Murfree's two companies. 
The van of the right column was composed of one hundred 
anil fifty volunteers under the command of Lieutenant-Co- 
lonel Fleury; that of the left of one hundred volunteers, 
under the command of Major Stewart — they were pre- 
ceded by two forlorn hopes of twenty men each, led by 
Lieutenant Gibbon of the sixth, and Lieutenant Knox of 
the ninth Pennsylvania regiments. The assault was to 
have taken place at midnight, on each flank of the works, 
but the nature of the ground retarded the approaches until 
twenty minutes after twelve o'clock, when it began. The 
advanced parties rushed forward with fixed bayonets and 
unloaded arms; and the general, placing himself at the 
head of Febiger's regiment, gave the troops the most 
pointed orders to place their whole reliance on the bayo- 
net ; and he was literally and faithfully obeyed. " Neither 
the deep morass, the formidable and double rows of abaiisj 
nor the high and strong works in front, could damp the 
ardour of the troops, who, under a most tremendous fire of 
shells, grape, and musketry, forced their way with such 
unity of movement, that both columns met in the centre of 
the works at the same instant." Such was the celerity of 
the attack, that the assailants lost but about one hundred 
men killed and wounded, though the forlorn hoj^e of 
Lieutenant Gibbon had seventeen men killed and wounded 
of the twenty of which it consisted. In this attack, the ge- 
neral received a wounil in the head, not serious in its con- 
sequences, but which caused him to fall at tiie moment — 



RESOLUTION OF THANKS. 117 

determined, if it were mortal, to die in the fort, he conti- 
nued at the head of the column, supported by his aids, 
Captain Fishbourne and Mr. Archer, and entered the 
works with the troops. 

The public and private demonstrations of the sense en- 
tertained of this most distinguished achieven)enr, by the 
nation and illustrious individuals, were numerous and o^ra- 
tifying to the sensibility of one so high minded as General 
Wayne. The unanimous resolve of Congress, " presenting 
thanks to General Wayne for his brave, prudent, and sol- 
dierlike conduct, in the well-conducted attack on Stony 
Point," was followed by that of the General Assembly of 
Pennsylvania, who resolved, unanimously, "that the 
thanks of this House be given to General Wayne, and the 
officers and soldiers of the Pennsylvania line, for the cou- 
rage and conduct displayed by them in the attack on Stony 
Point, and the honour they have reflected on the state to 
which they belong," &c. The congratulatory letters re- 
ceived from the general officers of the army, and his friends 
in civil life, were warm and laudatory — not the least so 
was that of General Charles Lee, of whom, only six months 
before. General Wayne had demanded satisfaction for the 
severe strictures he had made on his testimony before the 
court-martial which followed the battle of Monmouth. 

Bergen Neck, in New Jersey, between the Hudson and 
the Hackensac, had been selected by the refugees as the 
place for an establishment from which an organized 
banditti could at all times lay the surrounding country 
under contribution. They had constructed a very strong 
blockhouse, well furnished with the means of defence, 
and a numerous garrison, whence they issued to steal 
cattle, and plunder the inhabitants. The necessity of 
breaking up such a dangerous horde was imperious; 
and, on the 20th of July, 1780, General Wayne was de- 
tached, with a competent force, to effect the object. His 



118 



ANTHONY WAYNE 



own report of the affair exhibits the result so well, that it 
19 Inserted entire. 

^'Totoway, 22d July, 1780. 
" Dear General, — In pursuance of the plan which your 
excellency was pleased to approve, the first and second 
Pennsylvania brigades, with four pieces of artillery, took 
up the line of march the 20th, at three o'clock, p. M., and 
arrived a little in rear of New Bridge at nine in the even- 
ing. We moved again at one in the morning, in order 
to occupy the ground in the vicinity of Fort Lee, and the 
landing opposite King's Bridge, by the dawn of day, 
agreeably to the enclosed order. We advanced towards 
Bull's Ferry, General Irvine, with part of his brigade, 
along the summit of the mountain, and the first brigade, 
under Colonel Humpton, with the artillery and Colonel 
Moylan's horse, on the open road. About ten o'clock the 
first brigade reached that place. Colonel Moylan, with 
the horse and a detachment of infantry, remained at the 
forks of the road leading to Bergen and Powle's Hook, to 
receive the enemy if they attempted any thing from that 
quarter. On reconnoitring the enemy's post at Bull's 
Ferry, we found it to consist of a blockhouse, surrounded 
by an abatis and stockade to the perpendicular rocks 
next North river, with a kind of ditch or parapet serving 
as a covered way. By this time we could discover a 
move of troops on York Island, which circumstance began 
to open a prospect of our plan taking the wished effect. 
General Irvine was therefore directed to halt in a position 
from which he could move to any point where the enemy 
should attempt to land, either in the vicinity of this post 
or Fort Lee, where the sixth and seventh Pennsylvania 
regiments were previously concealed, with orders to meet 
the enemy, and, after landing, with the point of the bayonet 
to dispute the pass in the gorge of the mountain, at every 
expense of blood, until supported by General Irvine and 



Wayne's letter to Washington. 119 

the remainder of the troops. The first regiment was posted 
m a hollow way on the north of the hlockhouse, and the 
tenth in a hollow on the south, with orders to keep up an 
incessant fire into the portholes, to favour the advance of 
the artillery covered by the second regiment. When the 
four field pieces belonging to Colonel Proctor's regiment 
arrived at the medium distance of sixty yards, they com- 
menced a fire which continued without intermission from 
eleven until quarter after twelve, at which time we re- 
ceived expresses from Closter, that the enemy were em- 
barking their troops at Phillips', and falling down the 
river. We also saw many vessels and boats, full of troops, 
moving up from New York, which made it necessary to 
relinquish the lesser ; — i. e. drawing the enemy over to- 
wards the posts already mentioned, and deciding the for- 
tune of the day in the defiles, through which they must 
pass before they could gain possession of the strong ground^ 
'< In the mean time, we found that our artillery had made 
but little impression, although well and gallantly served, 
not being of sufficient weight of metal to traverse the logs 
of the blockhouse. As soon as the troops understood that 
they were to be drawn off, such was the enthusiastic 
bravery of all officers and men, that the first regiment, nc 
longer capable of restraint, rather than leave a fort in theij 
rear, rushed with impetuosity over the abatis, and ad 
vanced to the palisades, from which they were with diffi 
culty withdrawn, although they had no means of forcing 
an entry : the contagion spread to the second, and by 
great elforts of the officers of both regiments, they were at 
length restrained, not without the loss of some gallant offi- 
cers wounded, and some brave men killed. Happy it was 
that the ground would not admit of a further advance of 
the tenth, and that the situation of General Irvine's brigade 
prevented them from experiencing a loss proportionate lo 
those immediately at the point of action, as the same gal- 
lant spirit pervaded the whole, which would have been 



120 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

the means of frustrating our main object by encumoerini^ 
us with wounded. The artillery was immediately drawn 
off and forwarded towards the wished-for point of action; 
the killed and wounded were all moved on, excepting 
three that lay dead under the stockades. During this 
period Colonel Moylan's dragoons drove off the cattle and 
horses from Bergen, whilst a detachment of the infantry 
destroyed the sloops and wood boats at the landing, in 
which were taken a captain wilh a few sailors; some 
others were killed in attempting to escape by swimming. 
Having thus effected part of our plan, we pushed forward 
to oppose the troops from Voluntiue's hill, where we ex- 
pected to land at the nearest point to New Bridge, which, 
if effected, we were determined either to drive back the 
enemy, or cut our way through them ; but in the doing of 
either were disappointed. The enemy thought proper to 
remain in a less dangerous situation than that of the Jersey 
shore. We therefore passed on to New Bridge, and by 
easy degrees we have returned to this place. 

" Enclosed are copies of the orders of the 20lh, to« 
gether with a return of the killed and wounded, sixty-four 
in number, among whom are Lieutenants Crawford and 
Hammond of the first, and Lieutenant De Hart of the 
second ; the latter mortally wounded. 

" I cannot attempt to discriminate between officers, regi- 
ments and corps, who with equal opportunity would have 
acted with equal bravery. Should my conduct and that 
of the troops under my command meet your excellency's 
approbation, it will much alleviate the pain I experience 
in not being able to carry the whole of our plan into exe- 
cution, which, from appearance, could only have been pre- 
vented by the most malicious fortune. 

" I have the honour to be your excellency's most obe- 
vlient servant, 

<< Anthony Wayne. 
"fli« Excellency, General Washington.'" 



BEVOLT OF THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 121 

An important event, in the history of the army and the 
country, whose safety was in great danger, is next in order. 
The revolt of the " Pennsylvania line" Avas the result of a 
want of attention, on the part of the government, to the 
duties of punctuality and justice, and a disregard of com- 
plaints well founded, and eventually redressed. A braver or 
more raithful body of men than the troops of Pennsylvania 
never existed. I'hey had always, when present, to use the 
words oftheir general, " led the way to victory ;" but human 
nature could not withstand the complicated distresses, by 
which they were oppressed. The ready and resolute 
quellers of the mutiny of the Connecticut Ime, desperation 
drove them to become mutineers themselves. They were 
stationed at iMorristown, New Jersey, where, on the night 
of the 1st of January, 1781, the first symptoms of departure 
from duty were shown, which soon spread throughout the 
line, and set all control at defiance. With the exception 
of three regiments, the whole turned out under arms, 
under the charge of the noncommissioned officers. The 
commissioned officers endeavoured to repress the disorder, 
and to force the men to their duty, and several were 
wounded, and one. Captain Bitting, waskilled in the attempt. 
The influence of Wayne over them seemed to have given 
way before the misery they endured, and his exertions to 
bring them to terras were without success. A body of 
them, amounting to thirteen hundred, marched away from 
Morristown to Princeton, taking with them their arms and 
six fieldpieces. .Their conduct, however, was regular 
and peaceable — they committed no destruction of property, 
and they professed to be true to their country, and to have 
no object in view, but that of obtaining a redress of 
their grievances. A committee of Congress was sent to 
them ; and General Reed the President of Pennsylvania, 
and General Potter, were appointed by the council of that 
state, to bring about an accommodation with the mutineers, 
and finally succeeded, by redressing the just complaints of 

Vol. I. n 



122 A N T H O N V W A Y N E. 

the soldiers. So soon as the revolt of the line was known 
to the British at New York, Sir Henry Clinton endea- 
voured to take advantage of it, and made ofTers to the sol 
diery of every thing which they thought themselves enti- 
tled to at the hands of their country ; but, as has been 
well said, '< their patience, but not their patriotism was 
exhausted." They refused to listen to the offers of the 
enemy, who put in motion a body of troops to receive and 
support them — offered to General Wayne to march under 
his orders to repel them — and seized upon two spies or 
emissaries seni by the British general with propositions, 
and delivered them to General Wayne, by whom they were 
handed over to a board of officers, who tried and con- 
demned them to death, a sentence which was speedily 
executed. Tranquillity was restored, and a general am- 
nesty terminated the unhappy affair. 

Early in the spring of 1781, the southern portion of the 
United States became the theatre of a devastating war, 
carried on by the army in Carolina, and detachments 
under Phillips, Lesley, and Arnold, who invaded Virginia, 
and extended their predatory excursions from the seaboard 
to the interior of the state, and captured the capital and 
many of the principal towns. To repel these incursions, 
General Washington, in the month of April, sent the Mar- 
quis de Lafayette with twelve hundred continental infantry, 
and soon after ordered Wayne with the Pennsylvania 
line, now reduced to about eleven hundred rank and file, 
to join them, which he did on the 7th of June. Lord 
Cornwallis, whose movements towards the force of La- 
fayette had created some uneasiness, fell back upon learning 
the junction of the two corps, and retreated to Richmond, 
and afterwards to Williamsburg, from whence, on the 5th 
of July, he reached Jamestown Ferry, and prepared to 
cross. Information was given on the 6th to Lafayette, 
who had hung on the rear of the retreating enemy, that 
»' the main body of the British army" had effected a nas- 



WAVNE AT YORK TOWN. 123 

sage to the northern bank of the river, leaving only a rear 
guard of the ordinary force behind. The idea of annihi- 
lating this portion of the enemy's force, induced him to 
order General Wayne to attack it with about seven hun- 
dred men. In the execution of the order the pickets were 
driven in, and the assailants found themselves advancing 
not upon the rear guard, but upon the whole British army, 
already within less than a hundred paces, in order of 
battle, and extending their flanks to enclose him. To re- 
treat was the last resource that ever suggested itself to 
Wayne under any difficulty ; and his course was at once 
sagacious and energetic. He ordered a charge with the 
bayonet on the nearest body of the enemy, which was exe- 
cuted with the well known gallantry and vigour of "the 
line," and with such decisive effect: upon the enemy as to 
put a stop to his movements. Wayne immediately re- 
treated with great rapidity, and the whole proceeding had 
so much the appearance of a manoeuvre, that, impressed 
with the idea that the attack and retreat were intended to 
draw them into an ambuscade, the British made no at- 
tempt to pursue the troops, whose conduct on the occasion 
received great commendaiion, and the tribute of glory to 
their general was fully accorded. The enemy continued 
their retreat towards Portsmouth, from which they finally 
moved to Yorktown, rendered subsefjuently memorable in 
the annals of America, by die second surrender of a British 
army. 

Arrived at Yorktown, General Wayne was actively en- 
gaged in the duties of the investment and subsequent cap- 
ture of the post. On the 6th of October, 1781, the first 
parallel was opened by Generals Wayne and Clinton, with 
six regiments; and on the 11th, the second parallel was 
commenced by the Pennsylvania and Maryland troops, 
covered by two battalions under the command of General 
Wayne. The attacks on the two detached redoubts of the 
enemy, which were made on the 14th, a little after dark 



124 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

by the Marquis de Lafayette, at the head of the American 
light infaiitry, and the French troops, under the Baron 
Vionienil, was supported by two battalions of the Pennsyl- 
vania line, under General Wayne ; and the second parallel 
was completed by detachments from it and the Maryland 
ine, under Colonel Walter Stewart. Yorktown was 
furrendered on the 17th of October, 1781, and the atten- 
tion of the country was turned to the enemy who held 
possession of the more southern portion of the Union. 
General Wayne was detached to the army of General 
Greene, the object being to receive his aid in bringing 
the state of Georgia within the authority of the con- 
federation. The means afforded him were exceedingly 
limited, being the remains — about one hundred — of Moy- 
lan's dragoons, some three hundred undisciplined Georgia 
militia, to which was subsequently added three hundred 
continentals, under Colonel Posey of the Virginia line. 
In little more than a month he had, by boldness, vigilance, 
and activity, driven the enemy from the interior of the 
state, defeated his Indian allies, who sought to succour 
him, and confined him almost entirely to Savannah. «' We 
are cooped up," says an intercepted letter, " within the 
town of Savannah, by about three hundred rebels, while 
we can muster twenty-five hundred men fit for duty." 

The efforts of General Wayne, in the ardous duties 
confided to him, were not confined to mere exertions in 
the field. He brought back to their allegiance many of 
the disaffected, — " Made," to use his own phrase, " Whigs 
out of Tories ;" and embodied them into two corps, and 
contrived to produce a spirit of discontent which extended 
to the British army itself. The British general in com- 
mand — Clark — applied at this period to the Creek and 
Choctaw tribes of Indians, and invited them, with success, 
to join him. Two bodies of these savages marched early 
in May for Savannah, and the latter had actually reached 
Us neighbourhood, where, owing to the foresight ant! 



WAVNE DEFEATS THE CREEKS. 125 

adroitness of Wayne, they were made prisonerb". Two oi 
three of their chiefs were retained by hira as hostages^ but 
he permitted the rest to return home, with a very significant 
recommendation not again to take part in a war which 
was not their own, in aid of a power not able to protect 
them. On the 20th of May, 1782, General Clark ordered 
Colonel Brown to meet the approaching Creeks at Oge- 
chee, and accompany them into the city. This arrange- 
ment became known to Wayne on the same day ; and, 
certain that the combined party must pass a long and nar- 
row causeway over a swampy ground, he determined to 
strike it there. He reached the defile about twelve 
o'clock at night, and found the enemy already arrived. 
Without a moment's hesitation, and relying on the dark- 
ness to conceal the inadequacy of his force, which con- 
sisted of one section of dragoons and a company of 
infantry, he ordered an immediate charge on the enemy's 
column, which was made with " a vivacity and vigour, 
which, in a moment, and without burning a grain of pow- 
der, defeated and dispersed the whole of it." Colonel 
Douglass and forty men were killed, wounded, and taken 
in the action. The whole of the Creek force, however, 
was not in the engagement. Gueristasego, sometimes 
called Emitasago, with a strong party, amounting to five 
hundred warriors, had not arrived, on the 20th of May, at 
Ogechee ; and having escaped the disaster of Brown con- 
ceived the idea of revenging his defeat. He struck into 
the woods and swamps, and, on the 24th of May, had ap- 
proached the picket guard of Wayne's force, and, having 
slain the sentinel, reached, undiscovered, the light company 
of Lieutenant-Colonel Posey's corps, upon which so furious 
an attack was made that it was compelled to fall back a 
few paces ; and the artillery, for whose protection it had 
been stationed, was, for a moment, in the possession 
of the enemy. The corps, however, immediately rallied, 
and, with Captain Gunn's company of dragoons, advanced 

11* 



126 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

to the charge with such vigour, that the savages were en- 
tirely routed and dispersed, and their leader slain. The 
condict, for a short time, was severe ; but a free use of the 
bayonet and sabre proved the superior character of the 
troops of Wayne, whose military character was rather in- 
creased than diminished by tlie surprise, from which his 
promptness and coohioss recovered them. 

The hope of continuing the contest against America 
with success, was now abandoned by the Bri;ish cabinet, 
and orders were given to their troops to evacuate Georgia. 
The British garrison left Georgia on the litli ot July, 1782, 
and very soon afterwards the small force under Wayne 
was ordered by General Greene to Soiith Carolina. 
Charleston was soon after evacuated by the enemy, and 
on the 14th of December, was taken possession of by 
Wayne — his last military service during the war of the 
Revolution. 

In July, 17S3, after an absence of seven years. General 
Wayne returned to his native state, and to civil life. He 
was elected a member of the General Assembly, from 
Chester county, in 1784, and served for two sessions, 
taking a deep interest in all the measures of importance of the 
day. His time was much occupied with domestic concerns, 
arising out of the grant to him of a landed donation by the 
state of Georgia; an unfortunate gift, by which he was in- 
volved in great embarrassments, from which he was only 
lelieved by parting with it at a sacrifice. 

The call of his country again reached him — an arduous 
service was required at his hands, and he was ready. In 
the month of April, 1792, General Wayne was nominated 
by President Washington, to the command of the array of 
the United States. The particidar object of tliis appoint- 
ment arose from the refusal of some of the Indian tribes, 
ihe allies of England, to cease hostilities, when the treaty 
of peace of 1783 was made between the United States 
and that power. The treaty, indeed, did not extend to 



WAYNE MADE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 127 

the tribes, and their hostilities between 1783 and 1791, 
produced an immense loss of life and suffering to the 
American settlements on the Ohio. 

Attempts were made, by all pacific means, to terminate 
such a state of affairs, but without success, and in Septem- 
ber, 1791, recourse was had to force. General Harmar, 
with fifteen hundred men, of whom three hundred were 
regulars, entered the country of the Miami and Wabash 
tribes, and succeeded in accomplishing the object of the 
expedition. The Indian villages were burned, and their 
fruit trees and corn destroyed; but during the return home of 
the troops, some expeditions were planned, which were not 
attended with success; and though no fiult was found at 
the time, it has been usual, in latter times, to attribute 
want of success to an excellent officer, and (he expedition 
of 1790 has generally been termed << liarmar's defeat." 
The disastrous defeat of General St. Clair, on the 4th of 
November, 1791, increased the confidence of the savages, 
and vigorous and- effectual measures became necessary to 
restore peace and tranquillity to the frontier. President 
Washington had selected General Wayne, as the com- 
mander-in-chief of the army, from his knowledge of the 
prudence and military skill, as well as bravery which he 
possessed — he knew also that he was acquainted with the 
peculiar mode of warfare of the enemy he was to oppose. 
The army which was to be placed at his disposition, for 
this arduous service, was to be recruited, and, what was 
more important, disciplined. Many circumstances con- 
spired to retard the enlistment of the troops, and the ad- 
dition of drafts from the volunteers and militia of Ken- 
tucky, still left the force to be employed much less than the 
exigency required. Negotiation, which to savages has 
always the air of weakness and timidity, was tried without 
any other effect than that of producing an apparent tran- 
quillity, the precursor of the s'orm that was rising. It was 
soon found that negotiation was useless, and the orders w-hicn 



12S ANTHONY WAYNE 

restrained General Wayne from oflfensive operations during 
its progress, were withdrawn, and about the 1st September, 
1793, he formed an encampment on the banks of the Ohio 
river, between Mill Creek and the then village of Cincin- 
nati, where the troops were subjected to a steady and careful 
drill, adapted to the peculiar service they were about to 
encounter. Having in October taken up its line of march, 
in an order which was very difTerent from that pursueil m 
traversmg an inhabited, cultivated country, but which 
enabled it to avoid surprise, and to be formed in line of 
battle immediately, the army arrived at the site chosen by 
General Wayne for his vvin:er quarters, on one of the 
streams of the Stillwater branch of the Big Miami river. 
The encampment was called " Greeneville," a name which 
the stream on which it was laid out still retains. So soon 
as his camp was properly fortified, General Wayne turned 
his attention to the organization and military instruction of 
his troops, and remained till near midsummer of 1794 in 
his quarters, and then, upon the arrival of a body of 
mounted volunteers from Kentucky, marched into the In 
dian country to chastise the tribes and their British allies. 
Intelliijence was received that the savages were in force at 
the Rapids, where they had been joined by a body of the 
Detroit militia, and a detachment of the British army. 
The spot they chose on which to meet the American army, 
was an elevated plain, near the foot of the Rapids, where 
the ground, from the effect of a recent tornado, was much 
strewn with fallen timber, and therefore less practicable 
for cavalry. Previously to engaging them, General Wayne 
sent an address to the enemy which was conciliatory, but 
firm and positive ; the alternative was offered to them of war 
or peace. An evasive answer was returned, which the ex- 
perienced leader to whom it was addressed knew was in- 
tended to gain time, and treated it accordingly. 

The American army having erected a temporary work 
to protect their provisions and baggage, the enemy's posi- 



DEFEAT OF THE INDIANS. 129 

tion was reconnoitrfd, and they were discovered encamped 
on Swan Creek, in ihe vicinity of a British fort, towards the 
foot of the Rapids. One reason for selecting the spot 
was, undoubtedly, the fact that this fort was a regular 
work, widi sufhcient artillery and a strong garrison, and 
had been recently constructed, contrary to the treaty wiih 
Great Britain, within the limits of the Uniied States. 

On the 20lh of August, the army was put in motion, a 
battalion of mounted volunteers, commanded by Major 
Price, forming the advance. This corps was attacked, 
after marching near five miles, and received so hot a fire 
from the enemy, who were concealed in the high grass 
and woods, as to compel it to fall back. The army was 
immediately formed by General Wayne in two lines, in a 
close thick wood, while the savages were drawn up in 
three lines, near enough to support each other, at right 
angles with the river, "I soon discovered," says the 
General, in his account of the engagement, written to 
General Knox, " from the weight of the fire, and extent of 
their lines, that the enemy were in full force in front, in 
possession of their flivourite ground, and endeavouring to 
turn our left Hank. 1 gave orders for the second line to ad- 
vance, and directed Major-General Scott to gain and turn the 
right flank of the savages, witli the mounted volunteers, by 
a circuituous route. At the same time I ordered the front 
line to advance with trailed arms, and rouse the Indians 
from their coverts at the point of the bayonet ; and when 
up, to deliver a close and well-directed fire on their backs, 
so as not to give time to load again. I also ordered Cap- 
tain Campbell, who commanded the legionary cavalry, to 
turn the left flank of the enemy, next the river, and which 
afforded a favourable field for that corps to act in. All 
these orders were obeyed with spirit and promptitude ; 
but such was the impetuosity of the charge of the first 
line of infantry, that the Indians and Canadian militia and 
volunteers were driven from their coverts in so snort a 

I 



130 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

time, that, although every exertion was used by the ofHcers 
of the second line of ihe legion, and by Generals Scott, 
Todd, and Barbee, of the mounted volunteers, to gain 
their proper positions, yet but a part of each could get up 
in season to participate in the action, — the enemy being 
driven, in the course of one hour, more than two miles 
through the thick woods already mentioned, by less than 
one-half their numbers. From every account, the enemy 
amounted to two thousand combatants ; the troops actually 
engaged against them were short of nine hundred. This 
horde of savages, with their allies, abandoned themselves 
to flight, and dispersed, with terror and dismay, leaving 
our victorious army in full and quiet possession of the field 
of battle, which terminated under the influence of the 
British garrison, as you will observe by the enclosed cor- 
respondence between Major Campbell, the commandant, 
and myself." 

The correspondence referred to was sufficiently pungent 
m its tone ; and the British commander having taken oc- 
casion to give notice to General Wayne '< that his army, 
or individuals belonging to it, should not approach within 
reach of his cannon, without expecting the consequences 
attending it," the answer he received was, the immediate 
destruction by fire of every thing of any value wilhin view 
of the fort, and up to the very muzzles of the guns. The 
fort was carefully reconnoitred within pistol-shot, and it is 
easy to perceive, that nothing would have gratified the 
feelings of the successful soldier more than an act of hos- 
tility on the part of the British commandant which would 
have justified him in carrying the works by storm. 

This victory was followed by the treaty of Greeneville, 
the result of which was a long peace with the Indians, and 
a considerable accession of valuable territory to the United 
States ; and it accelerated Jay's treaty with Great Britain, by 
which the posts so unjustifiably held by thai power were sur- 
rendered. General Wayne did not, however, long enjoy the 



DEATH OF WAVNE. 131 

honours which the nation and his native state were eager 
to bestow upon him. After a visit to Pennsylvania, he 
returned to the west to fulfil his duties as commissioner to 
treat with the north-western Indians, and to receive the 
surrender of the military posts yielded up by the British 
government ; and, while descending Lake Erie from De- 
troit, died from an attack of the gout, at Presqiie Isle, on 
the 1 5th of December, 1796, in the fifty-first year of his 
age. His remains were removed from *heir burial-place, 
on the shore of the lake, by his son, in the year 1809, and 
conveyed to the burial-ground of Radnor church, in 
Chester county, where the Pennsylvania Slate Society of 
the Cincinnati erected a monument to his memory, with 
the following inscriptions. 

The south front of the monument exhibits the following 
inscription . 

In honmir of the. disfms^inshed 
Military services of 

Major-General 

Anthony Wayne, 

And as an affectionate tribute 

Of respect to his memory, 

This stone was erected by his 

Companions in arms, 

The Pennsylvania State Society of 

The Cincinnati, 

July ith, A. D. 1809, 

Thirty-fourth anniversary of 

The Independence of 

The United States of America ,• 

An event which constitutes 

The most 

Appropriate eulogium of an American 

Soldier and Patriot. 



132 ANTHONY WAYNE. 

The north front exhibits the following inscription ; 

Major-General 

Anthony Wayne 

Was born at Waynesborough, 

In Chester Comity, 

State of Pennsylvania, 

A. D. 1745. 

After a life of honour and usefulness. 

He died, in December, 1796, 

At a military post 

On the shores of Lake Erie, 

Commander-in-chief of the army of 

The United States. 

His military achievements 

Are consecrated 

In the history of his country. 

And in 

T7ie hearts of his countrymen. 

Kis remains 

,mni nere cUjMjeuea, 



MAJOR-GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Israel Putnam was born at Salem, in the state of Mas- 
sachusetts, on the 7th day of January, 1718. He was a 
great-grandson of John Putnam, one of the Puritan Pil- 
grims, who came to this country under the banner of the ve- 
nerable Endicot. His father, Joseph Putnam, married Miss 
Elizabeth Porter, and had by her twelve children. lie 
was a farmer, and intended Israel for the same pursuit in 
life. At that time, none but persons selected for the libe- 
ral professions received any other than the education of 
common schools, in which the arts of reading and writing, 
and a slender proficiency in the rudiments of arithmetic, 
were the sole attainments to be acquired. In those good old 
days, a farmer was more desirous of leaving to his son an 
example of moral worth, habitual piety, and industrious 
habits, than heaps of gold, and restless aspirations for 
offices, for which his limited education in no wise fitted 
him. Such an example was the bequest of Captain Jo- 
seph Putnam to his son Israel, who was more indebted to 
nature for those endowments, and that undaunted cou- 
rage, active enterprise, and untiring zeal for the cause he 
espoused, than to any influences of early mental culture. 
His constitution was vigorous, and he displayed in the be- 
ginning of life that insensibility to danger, and that bold 
daring, w^hich subsequently signalized his name m the 
wars of his country. 

Of his school days Kttle is known. Here and there an 
incident has been preserved to prove these traits his own 
when still a boy, but our space forbids the recounting of 
them. In the year 1739, at the age of twenty-one, he 
married Miss Hannah Pope, daughter of Mr. John Pope 

Vol. I. 12 133 



134 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

of Salem, by whom he had four sons and six daughters. 
In 1740 he removed from his native place to the town 
of Pomfret, in Connecticut, where he settled upon a tract 
of land he had then lately purchased. The habits and 
modes of life of farmers then were simple and economi- 
cal, and enabled industry to secure its reward. Love of 
luxury and the artificial wants of the present day were 
unknown to the husbandman. His lands were well fenced 
and- carefully cultivated, and his pastures soon exhibited 
a respectable stock of cattle. Finding certain portions 
of his property well adapted to grazing, he turned his 
attention to the cultivation of sheep, and carried on a suc- 
cessful business in the sale of his wool. But he found, in 
common with his neighbours, that there were other ene- 
mies of his flocks than the stubborn winters of that region, 
and the natural diseases that sometimes thinned their 
numbers. Wolves prowled about the country, and com- 
mitted so many depredations that the farmers determined 
to act in concert to drive them off. It was discovered 
that a she-wolf was the formidable foe, and against her 
their united efforts were directed. The story of the pur- 
suit of this w^olf, and her subsequent capture and de- 
struction by Putnam, is too well known to require repeti- 
tion here. It exhibits the fearless daring of our hero, and 
gives promise of those acts which subsequently illus- 
trated his character and fame. 

During the years from 1740 to 1755, Putnam devoted 
his time and attention to his farm, and by a steady indus- 
try succeeded in securing to himself a handsome inde- 
pendence. During this period his benevolence, his frank 
and candid manners, his courage and integrity, had won 
for him the most unbounded confidence and esteem. Upon 
the breaking out of the war between England and France, 
known as " The Seven Years' War," he was intrusted, 
without any previous military experience, wdth the command 
of a company in the regiment of Connecticut Provincials 



Putnam's rangers. 135 

He soon found his compliment of men, for his companions 
and friends willingly flocked to his standard, and they 
were the flower of the Connecticut yeomanry. It was 
true they had had no more experience in military matters 
than their captain ; but his known judgment and courage, 
and their reliance in him and willingness to obey his com- 
mands, secured discipline and made them of inestimable 
value in service. 

The regiment to which this company belonged was 
commanded by General Lyman, but so often was it de- 
tached on special and peculiar service that it operated 
more like an independent corps than a regular company 
of the regiment. The duty performed was that of rangers, 
although they were not drafted as such: but it was a duty 
well suited to the adventure-loving spirit of its captain, 
who would have pined under the dull routine of camp- 
service. In the active and perilous enterprises of rangers, 
in reconnoitering the enemy's camp, surprising their pick- 
ets and outposts, capturing detached parties and con- 
voys of supplies, he found himself in a sphere peculiarly 
suited to his talents, taste and genius. In this contest, 
wherein the English and French were disputing the mas- 
tery of the western continent, we find the Indian tribes, 
with few exceptions, enlisted on the side of the French. 
These allies were vexatious and dangerous foes. Fami- 
liar with the vast forests, plains, lakes and river banks of 
the country, accustomed to a wily and stealthy mode of 
warfare almost unknown to the English, who were also 
unacquainted with the country in which they were to fight 
their battles, these Indian tribes became formidable ene- 
mies. It required to oppose them men of ingenious, in- 
trepid and unflinching character. Captain Putnam was 
such a man, and his men were worthy their commander. 

The war commenced with vigour in 1755, with General 
Braddock's unfortunate expedition against Fort Duquesne, 
and General Shirley's similar expedition against Fort 



136 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

Niagara ; while on the other hand, Sir William Johnson 
achieved his brilliant victory over Baron Dieskau at Fort 
Edward. By the time these enterprises had been ended 
the season had drawn to a close, and the colonial troops 
having been enlisted only to serve during the campaign, 
were entitled to their discharge. Captain Putnam returned 
to his family. It was during this period that he became 
acquainted with Major Rogers, the celebrated New Hamp- 
shire partisan, whose life he preserved in a moment of 
extreme danger. Notwithstanding such an obligation, and 
their having been often detached upon the same duty, in 
his journal, subsequently published in London, (in 1765,) 
Major Rogers studiously avoids the mention of Putnam's 
name. The reason for such marked neglect of his com- 
panion in arms and the preserver of his life is not stated, 
but the mind naturally suggests envy or the fear of being 
himself eclipsed by his noble friend, as the natural and 
only cause ibr this unpardonable slight and such base in- 
gratitude. 

The campaign re-opened in 1756, when the commis- 
sion of Captain Putnam was renewed. But the general 
military operations were even less fortunate than those of 
the former year. The entire faihire of these campaigns 
must be ascribed to the inaction of the British generals 
who conducted them. The important fortress of Oswego 
fell into the hands of the French, nor was there a single 
attempt to dispossess them of their outposts at Ticonde 
roga, so that all the expensive and laborious preparations of 
the British were wholly lost. Yet amid this inactivit] 
and misconduct on the part of the generals, the duties 
assigned to the rangers gave opportunities for personal ad- 
rentures that form a relief to the picture. 

Captain Putnam on one occasion was ordered to recon- 
noit^e the position of the enemy at the Ovens neai Ticon- 
deroga. He took with him his lieutenant, Robert Durkee, 
a gallant officer, who afterwards distinguished himself in 



BOLD ADVENTURES. 13T 

tbe revolutionary war. The two partisans proceeded to theii 
duty, but unacquainted with the French custom of setting 
camp-fires in the centre of the camp instead of in a circle 
around it, as the English did, they found themselves sud- 
denly in the midst of the enemy, who discovered their 
approach and immediately saluted them with a discharge 
of muskets. Durkee received a bullet in his thigh, but 
notwithstanding this, he was able to join in a precipitate 
retreat, in which he was very near being killed by his 
(riend. Putnam had fallen into a clay-pit, and Durkee 
came tumbling in after him ; when, supposing him one 
of the enemy, he raised his knife to stab him, but re- 
cognising his voice in time, sheathed it in his scabbard 
instead of his comrade's body. Amid a shower of bullets 
they succeeded in reaching a spot of safety, but when 
Putnam came to offer his canteen of brandy to his wounded 
companion he discovered that one of the enemy's balls 
had pierced and emptied it, and his blanket presented no 
less than fourteen bullet holes received during their escape. 
The bold spirit evinced by Captain Putnam in recaptur- 
ing the baggage and provisions, which had been intercepted 
at Halfway Brook, between Fort P^dward and Lake George, 
by six hundred of the enemy, exhibits more forcibly the 
character of the services rendered by him in this war 
than any other incident. When the news of the disaster 
was received, he and Rogers were ordered off in pursuit 
of the enemy. They took with them two wall-pieces and 
two blunderbusses, with about one hundred men in boats. 
Their intention was to proceed down the lake, thence to 
take a line across the land to the narrows, and thus cut 
off a retreat. They succeeded in reaching the sj)ot before 
the French with their batteaux, now laden with plunder, 
had gained it. Unexpectedly they opened a tremendous 
fire up->n them, killed many of the boatmen and sank 
several of the boats. The rest by a strong wind were swept 
into South Bay, and thus escaped, to bear the news to 

12* 



loo ISRAEL rUTNAM. 

Ticonderoga. Anticipating their return \\ith roinfi)rcc- 
nu-nts, l\itn!un and Ko«;ors hastened to their boats, and at 
Sabbath-day Point thoy found their expectations had not 
deceived them, for the French, about three hundred strong, 
were fast iipproachiuo- on the lake. When the enemy, 
expecting an easy victory if not an immediate surrender, 
had come witliin pistol shot, the wall-pieces and blun- 
derbusses were unmasked anil opened upon them, aided 
by musketry, protlucing the most dreailful carnage, and 
leaving the further retreat of the rangers unmolested. 

By such services Putnam became generally known. 
His insensibility to danger, his caution and sagacity, his 
presence of mind and ingenuity of stratagem, which gave 
him power to command his resources at a moment when 
most needed, made him essential to the operations against 
the French and their allies. His cheerful spirit, and his 
readiness to share the hardships and ])erils of service with 
his soldiers ; his submission to all privations, and his 
willingness to lead in every adventure of danger, won the 
hearts of all his subalterns, while he secured by strict 
obedience to his superiors their esteem and contidence. 
Although such services were of inhnite importance to the 
protection and support of the cause, they were unfortu- 
nately rendered in a sphere, to which general history can 
allot no place. 

In 1757 the legislature of Connecticut conferred on 
Putnam a major's commission. At this time the Earl of 
Loudoun was at the head of the military forces of the 
colonies, and he proved himself one of the most inellicient 
and imbecile of the British generals who served in Ame- 
rica. Although the colonists with a generous eflbrt had 
supplied him with a numerous force, and enabled himj 
had he seen fit to avail himself of the means placed at his 
command, to oj)erate eilectively against the enemy, about 
midsummer he left the scene of action, and with about 
six tliousand troops sailed for Halifax, for the alleged 



RESCUE OF CAPTAIN LITTLE. 139 

j)urpose of joining the reinforcement of five thousand 
troops brought out by Lord Howe, with which he intended 
to reduce Louisburg in Cape Breton. Learning how- 
ever that this place had obtained an augmentation to its 
garrison, he returned to New York, where he reposed in 
disgraceful idleness. He left in command at Fort Ed- 
ward the timid General Webb, and the unfortunate Colo- 
nel Monroe at Fort William Henry. The latter post was 
attacked by the French under the Marquis de Montcalm, 
and notwithstanding repeated entreaties from Colonel 
Monroe, General Webb refused to send reinforcements, 
and recommended him to surrender. The brave but de- 
voted Monroe at last yielded to the necessity of his de- 
fenceless position, and while leaving the fort his little 
band was attacked by the Indians and inhumanly slaugh- 
tered. At one time General Webb consented to allow a 
reinforcement of such of his garrison as would volunteer; 
but when Major Putnam's rangers offered to fly to the 
rescue, the imbecile general repented of his permission, 
and, amid expressions of indignation and grief on the part 
of this gallant band, had them recalled. Afterward Gene- 
ral Lyman was placed in command of Fort Edward, and 
immediately undertook the improvement of its defences. 
A small party under Captain Little was at work for this 
purpose on a tongue of land, bounded on one side by a 
morass, and on the other by a creek. Major Putnam also 
commanded a detachment, similarly engaged, on an island 
near by. A party of Indians had stealthily concealed 
themselves in the morass near Captain Little's station, and 
at an unsuspected moment attacked him. The alarm 
was given, and the labourers, deserting their work, fled 
towards the fort, where Captain Little by a close and 
well-timed discharge of musketry arrested the progress of 
the enemy. But his position became now embarrassing. 
General Lyman, instead of sending a reinforcement, 
cpjJed in his outposts, and closed the gates of the fort, 



140 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

leaving Captain Little and his small force to contend 
against fearful odds. Major Putnam learned the precari- 
ous situation of his friend. Leading his men onward tu 
his rescue he plunged into the creek, followed by his 
rangers who waded gallantly after him. They passed 
near enough to the fort to hear the commander's peremp- 
tory orders to return, but unwilling to have his friend 
sacrificed Putnam hurried on to his assistance, and soon 
drove the Indians back into the morass. Although this 
■lisobedience to orders was unpardonable in mihtary dis- 
cipline, yet General Lyman never made mention of it, 
ashamed, as he probably was, of his dastardly conduct. 

The British arms were blessed with better fortune in 
almost every other quarter of the country, yet in the region 
of Lake George and Lake Champlain disaster still at- 
tended them. The appointment of Mr. Pitt to the ministry 
inspired new hopes and gave a better spirit to the people, 
and they were enabled during this season to supply, from 
Connecticut, Massachusetts and New Hampshire, a force 
of fifteen thousand men. General Abercromby was placed 
at the head of military affairs, and proposed to undertake 
expeditions against Louisburg, against Fort Duquesne, 
and against Ticonderoga ^and Crown Point. In this last 
expedition Major Putnam again exhibited those peculiar 
traits of strategy and foresight which had already secured 
to him a prominent position in the army. During the 
campaigns 1757 and 1758 he was ever called upon to 
command and execute the most difficult and hazardous 
enterprises ; and he seldom failed to add by his cool 
daring, presence of mind, and firmness, fresh laurels to 
those he had already won. At Woodcreek, near the point 
where it flows into South Bay, with fifty men he attacked 
a party of the enemy vastly superior in numbers, and by 
keeping his companions concealed behind a temporary 
parapet, succeeded in destroying many of them. In his 
retreat his party were mistaken by a reinforcement sent 



PRISONER AMONG THE INDIANS. 141 

to his aid for the enemy and were fired upon, but Put- 
nam, springing forward, made them aware of their error, 
and reprimanded the detachment for" the little execution 
they had done undei the circumstances ! as only one man 
had been wounded. The expedition against Ticonderoga 
was undertaken in July. It was during the attack on this 
post, that Lord Howe fell. He was a young nobleman 
in the prime of life, of eminent virtue, and manly cou- 
rage, universally esteemed and beloved. His death was 
severely felt. The whole expedition was unsuccessful, 
and was attended with great loss to the English. Never 
was an enterprise so badly conducted or more unfortu- 
nate. 

During the summer. Major Putnam was surprised while 
lying in his batteau on the Hudson, near the rapids at 
Fort Miller, by a party of Indians who suddenly appeared 
on the shore. To land would have been certain death to 
the little party, which consisted of but five men. Putnam 
seemed at once to comprehend the danger of his position, 
and without a moment's deliberation put his batteau in 
motion, guiding it towards the rapids. The Indians stood 
amazed at his temerity, for it seemed certain destruction 
to descend the stream at this point. Calmly watching the 
current, Putnam with a firm hand guided his frail bark 
amid the rocks that every instant threatened to shatter it, 
and in a few moments it was seen ghding over the smooth 
waters below, much to the relief of his breathless com- 
panions, one of whom had of necessity been left behind 
and was killed by the Indians. This undertaking inspired 
the savages with awe, and for a time they believed Putnam 
to be favoured of the Great Spirit. 

In August of this year, however, his good fortune forsook 
him. In executing the perilous duty of watching the enemy 
at Ticonderoga, a detachment headed by the French parti- 
san Molang surprised him. He stood his ground manfully, 
but his fusee, while pressed to the breast of a powerful In- 



142 ISRAEL PUTN\M. 

dian, having missed fire, he was taken prisoner and tiftd 
to a tree. Here he was forced to remain inactive, his 
victor having returned to the battle. After a long and 
warmly contested struggle, (during which he had been un- 
happily subjected to the cross-fire of both parties, tied as he 
was, halfway between the combatants,) the provincials re- 
tained possession of the field. The French and their savage 
allies retreated, taking with them Iheir prisoner. He was 
drugged onward by his foes, who stripped him of his 
clothes, his shoes and hat, and forced him to bear the most 
cruel burdens, while his flesh was incessantly lacerated 
by the thorns and briers of the woods. One of these 
savages had struck him with the but-end of his musket, 
and fractured his jaw, causing excruciating pain, and an- 
other had wounded him with a tomahawk in the neck. 
His suH'orings wore not ended with this treatment. He 
had been destined to perish at the stake, and the brutal 
conquerors had already determined upon inflicting the 
most cruel torture to add to the bitterness of doath. They 
bound their victim to a tree, naked and covered with 
wounds, and had already lighted the faggots that were to 
consume him, when one of them, more humane than the rest, 
informed Molang of his danger, and this olhcer rushed to 
his rescue. Reprimanding the Indians for their barbarity, 
Molang delivered the prisoner to his captor, that being 
ids right, who now treated him with comparative kind- 
ness, though with sufficient cruelty to have overcome a less 
vigorous constitution. Putnam was carried to Ticcn- 
tleroga, where he w^as made known to Montcalm, who 
had him transferred to Montreal. In this city there were 
several American prisoners, and among them Colonel Peter 
Schuyler. This gallant officer, when he heard of Putnam's 
presence, hastened to visit him, and was so overcome at 
beholding the noble soldier, without coat, vesting, or stock- 
ings, with his body exhibiting marks Of cruel violence, 
that he could hardly contain his indignation. By con- 



TAKING OF Q U E B K C AND HAVANA. 143 

lealing the major's rank and importance, he succeeded 
m getting his name included in the cartel when the ex- 
change of prisoners took {)lace, and thus enabled him to 
return to his home. He took with him the famous Mrs. 
Howe, whose interesting history is so well known, and in 
whose welfare Colonel Scthuyler took the deepest interest. 

The campaign of 1759 again found our hero in the 
army, now raised to the rank of a lieutenant-colonel. The 
expedition against Ticonderoga and Crown Point was suc- 
cessfully executed under General Amherst, under whom 
Putnam served. The victory of Wolfe, and his death 
under the walls of Quebec, are known. While the arms^ 
of the Provincials were cro'vned with glory, they were 
shaded by the loss of this gallant soldier. The war ter- 
minated in 1700, leaving the French in possession of 
Montn^al, as their only important post. This was subse- 
quently rescued from their hands, and in the enterprise 
Putnam's ingenuity and daring were again consjncuous. 

Although the treaty of Paris, in 17G3, had concluded 
the hostilities between the French and the English, yet the 
western Indians were not dispostjd to remain quiet, and an 
expedition was undertaken against them, in which Putnam 
commanded the Connecticut troops. The savages were 
soon overawed, and a treaty was concluded with them. 

In 17G2, when war was declared between England and 
Spain, Lieutenant-Colonel Putnam was sent with the Con* 
necticut regiment to Cuba, whence, after suffering ship- 
wreck and the ravages of disease, having successfully, 
in conjunction with the English, conquered the fortifica- 
tions of Havana, he returned with a remnant of his army 
to his country. 

Thus ended a war of nearly ten years, during which, 
by a bravery as unostentatious as it was valuable, and by 
d combination of qualities rarely met with in one man, 
Putnam won a name that secured to him in the Revolutior 
the high rank he enjoyed. 



144 ISRAEL PUTNAM. 

In 1764 the stamp-act severed the ties which bound 
the colonies to the mother country, Putnam was among 
the foremost in opposition to this odious measure, and 
had the gratification to see that opposition effective. On 
the 19th of April, 1775, he was laboring in the field, 
when news of the battle of Lexington was brought to him 
by a man who rode through the country, attracting atten- 
tion by tapping the drum at his side and announcing the 
'commencement of hostilities. Leaving his plough, Put- 
nam detached his horse, mounted, and galloped off' to 
Cambridge, where on the 21st he attended a council ot 
war. The Assembly of his state being then in session, 
he was summoned to wait uj on it for consultation. It be- 
stowed upon him the commission of a brigadier-general, and 
he immediately returned to Cambridge, leaving orders that 
all troops enlisted should follow as speedily as possible. 

On the 21st of May General Ward was commissioned 
as major-general and commander-in-chief of the troops 
of Massachusetts. The head-quarters were at Cambridge : 
the right wing of the army was at Roxbury, under com- 
mand of Brigadier-General Thomas ; at Medford was the 
left wing, to -which the commands of Colonels Stark and 
Reed were attached. General Putnam was stationed at 
Inman's farm, in command of three regiments. The 
British army consisted of ten thousand men. 

During the month of May General Putnam undertook 
to remove the cattle from the islands in the harbour of 
Boston, in order to cut off' the enemy's supplies. Gene- 
ral Warren accompanied him, and the enterprise was suc- 
cessful. This gave the American troops confidence, and 
infused a good spirit throughout their ranks. The com- 
mittee of safety, on hearing of the intention on the part of 
the British to occupy the heights of Dorchester and Charles- 
town, recommended to the council of war to occupy Bun- 
ker Hill, at Charlestown, as speedily as possible. Foi 
this purpose, a thousand men under the command of Colo- 



BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 145 

oel Prescott assembled at Cambridge on the 16th of June, 
and proceeded at night to take possession of these heights. 
General Putnam accompanied the detachment. 

The plan was to occupy Bunker Hill, but Breed's Hill, 
the most easterly height, having command of the former, 
it was resolved, under advice of General Putnam, to for- 
tify that position. Whatever may have been said of 
General Putnam's supervision of these fortifications, and 
of his not even having been present on the 17th of June, 
it seems now, after a full investigation of the facts, that 
with Colonel Prescott he superintended them in person, 
oftentimes taking the spades and pickaxes from the men, 
to work with his own hands ; and that he performed a very 
distinguished and perilous part in the battle which suc- 
ceeded. After the full accounts given of this event, it is 
needless to enter into details. General Putnam was there, 
and Genera] Warren volunteered his services, and even 
offered to receive the orders of Putnam, W'ho recommended 
him to the redoubt where Colonel Prescott was stationed. 
In this most important conflict, in which the brave and 
lamented Warren fell, Putnam was the only general offi- 
cer in command, and the battle seems to have been con- 
ducted under his guidance ; nor is it too much to say, 
that most of the influence exercised by its results may 
be ascribed to his courage, zeal, and indefatigable efforts. 

On the 15th of June, Washington was unanimously 
elected commander-in-chief of the American army by 
Congress, and Ward, Lee, Schuyler, and Putnam, were 
elected major-generals. Washington reached Cambridge 
on the 2d of July, and then first became acquainted with 
Putnam, of whom he subsequently ever entertained a high 
opinion, declaring that he was " a most valuable man, 
and a fine executive officer." On the evacuation of Bos- 
ton by the British, Putnam was placed in command of the 
city, where he remained until the 29th of March of the 
next year, when he was ordered to take command of 

Vol. I. 13 K 



146 ISKAELPUTNAM. 

New Yovk, and to complete the defences of the cily 
commenced by General Lee. It was believed ihat thi 
British would attack this point and endeavour to get 
control of the Hudson to open a communication with 
Canada. General Putnam, with an assiduity and per- 
severance peculiar to his vigorous mind, devoted him- 
self to the preparations necessary to preserve the post, 
and in such a manner as to win the confidence of Wash- 
ington. As the safety of New York de])ended on the 
possession of Long Island, fortifications were marked out 
and commenced under the supervision of General Greene, 
who had made himself well acquainted v^'ith the routes, 
roads, and posts by which the British would advance on 
Brooklyn. 

This iniportani knowledge was known only to Greene, 
but when the Brilish landed and commenced their ad- 
vance, that officer was suddenly taken ill, and the com- 
mand devolved on General Sullivan. General Putnam, 
on the 23d of August, was ordered to the chief command ; 
but it was too late for these officers to make themselves 
acquainted with the whole plan of fortifications and posi- 
tions, and when on the 27th the battle actually com- 
menced, the left wing of our army was suddenly out- 
flanked at Bedford by General Clinton, and the rear of 
it gained before any knowledge of the danger could 
be imparted to General Sullivan, who was repelling 
the attack made by De Heister on the centre. When, 
however, the movement of General Clinton became known, 
the troops under Sullivan finding themselves liable to be 
attacked in the front and rear at the same moment, broke 
and fled, leaving their commander a prisoner. Our army 
now fell back on Brooklyn, whence it was withdrawn 
without the knowledge of the British during the night 
of the 29th of August, to the city of New York. General 
Putnam again resumed the command of the city, but on 
the 12tn of September, it being no longer tenable, it was 



CURIOUS STUATAGEM. 14") 

lesolved to evacuate it. Soon after this some British 
ships ascended the Hudson, as far as Blooraingdale, 
while Sir Henry Clinton landed four thousand troops on 
the eastern side of the island at Kipp's bay. General 
Putnam now saw that if these two forces should form a 
communication across the island, his division would be 
sacrificed. Sir Henry Clinton put his men in motion, 
while Putnam was urging on his troops by the Bloom- 
ingdale route. It was a moment of peril, but Putnam's 
strategy again came to his aid. The enemy were obliged 
to pass under Murray Hill, where resided a Mrs. Murray, 
a Quakeress, but devoted to the cause. Sir Henry Clinton 
having the start, Putnam knew that unless he could detain 
him his retreat must inevitably be cut off". He sent 
his aid to Mrs. Murray, requested her to ofTer Sir Henry 
and his troops some refreshment, and detain them as long 
as she could. This plot succeeded. The British, not 
aware of the proximity of Putnam's division, tarried an 
hour at the old lady's mansion, and when they proceeded 
on their way they beheld the Americans turning on the 
northern side of the hill, and winding their way into the 
Bloomingdale plains. The want of troops and means 
of defence, compelled Washington finally to withdraw 
through New Jersey, and on the 8th of December, 1776, 
he crossed the Delaware, to prevent the enemy from gain- 
ing possession of Philadelphia. It was of vital import- 
ance to our cause that this post should be defended, and 
no better proof of the confidence reposed in Putnam could 
be given, than his being placed in command at such a 
critical moment. 

Washington now prepared for his attack upon the 
British at Trenton. It was his intention to order General 
Putnam to join him, but fear of an insurrection among 
ihe Royalists made his presence essential in Philadelphia, 
and he was deprived of any share in that victory. On 
the 5th of January, 1777, however, he was ordered to 



148 ISRAEL PUTNAM, 

New Jersey, ^vhere the British forces at New Brunswick 
and Amboy were in winter quarters. He passed the re- 
mainder of the winter at Princeton, having achieved his 
object in forcing the British to concentrate their forces. 
It was necessary to conceal his want of troops from the 
enemy, for he could only number a few hundred men in 
his command. This was no easy task, for he was but 
fifteen miles distant from their quarters. On one occasion 
he was sorely puzzled how to act. Captain McPherson, 
a Scotch officer, who had been wounded at the battle of 
Princeton, still lay in a precarious situation in the town. 
While his recovery was considered doubtful, he requested 
permission to send for a friend in the British army, at Bruns- 
wick, that he might confide to him some testamentary 
matters of great importance. To allow one of the enemy 
to enter his outposts would be to show the meagre extent 
of his force ; and to refuse seemed cruel. He finally 
consented, but on the condition that this friend should 
come at night. An officer was despatched to Brunswick 
to conduct him to McPherson's (chamber. It was after 
dark before they reached Princeton. General Putnam had 
the College hall and all vacant houses lighted up, and 
while the two friends were closeted had his men marched 
rapidly before the house, and around the quarters of the 
captain, with great pomp and bustle ; and repeated this 
manoeuvre several times, to give an impression of a strong 
force. It was afterwards reported to the enemy by the 
captain's friend, that our troops could not number less 
than five thousand, if he might judge of the number by 
what he heard and saw. 

The purposes of the British generals, Burgoyne and 
Howe, not being known, it was impossible to prepare for 
any particuhir attack ; but Washington deemed the points 
of Ticonderoga, Philadelphia, and the Highlands on the 
Hudson, all-important, and though our troops were inade- 
quate to tlie task, yet the defence of these posts was un- 



DEFENCE OF THE HIGHLANDS. 149 

dertaken. Putnam was ordered to the Highlands, and 
stationed himself at Peekskill, where he remained 
from May until October. He devoted his attention to 
the different fortifications on the river> having his forces 
frequently reduced by orders to send detachments in dif- 
ferent directions, as the movements of the British array 
became known. On the 5th of October Sir Henry Clin- 
ton, under the cover of a fog, succeeded in surprising 
forts Clinton and Montgomery, and gaining possession 
of them. In consequence of this disaster, forts Indepen- 
dence and Constitution were abandoned, and General 
Putnam retired to Fishkill. He succeeded, however, in 
regaining Peekskill and the mountain passes, and learned 
after the surrender of Burgoyne, that the British had re- 
tired again to New York. 

Washington was at this time in the vicinity of Phila- 
delphia, where the British were in possession with ten 
thousand men. Colonel Hamilton, Washington's aid, 
repaired to Putnam's camp, and ordered him to send for- 
ward a brigade which he had received from the north 
after Burgoyne's surrender. This order was not immedi- 
ately obeyed, and gave rise to a severe letter from Hamil- 
ton to General Putnam, which the latter, deeming the 
tone improper, transmitted to Washington. The letter 
was approved of by Washington, and seems to be the 
only instance in which General Putnam met the displea- 
sure of the commander-in-chief. After the withdrawal 
of the British, Putnam moved down the river, and took 
post at New Rochelle, on the west side of the Sound, 
about twenty-five miles from New York, but in December 
was ordered back to the Highlands, where he spent the 
winter. It was d-'ring this winter, that Putnam, in con- 
formity with orders received from Washington, under date 
of January 25th, 1778, gave his attention to the rebuild- 
ing of the forts in the Highlands which had been de- 
stroyed by the British. West Point was the site selected 
13* 



150 I SUAE 1, Vll TN A M. 

I))' him ; uiul dmini;- the mouih of January (hr j^roiind 
was hrokcn tin- \\\v crvcUon i>t" tliis Ibitification. During 
tliis vcar ii\tiuirv was luatlc into the losses of F(irts Clinton 
and Moii(!;(>n\{M'v, Init Viitnam was rclievt'd ot" all hlanu*. 

Out- circuinstaiict' shtMdd he nxMitioned lu're ; we mean 
the wondtMlid t>S('a|>t> at I lorscncfk. While Cleneral Put- 
nnin was visiting dnrint;' the winter one of his out-posts 
at West Greenwich, (iovernor 'I'ryon was undertaking 
an exeursii^n against that post with about tilletMj liundred 
n\»>n. I'ulnani had hut filh . With these fi'w he stationed 
hiniselt" near the iueetini>-house on the brow of a very 
steip declivity. Here lu' reeeived the attack of the Bri- 
tish with a ilisehar«>e from his artillery, but perceiving 
Tryon's drag'oons about to chari^-e, he ordered his men to 
retreat to the swamp behind the hill, where no cavalry 
couhl follow, while he uvLTt'd his iiorse directly down the 
prei i[>if(>, \o the astonishment of the enemy, who followed 
him to the edge of the perilous ilesc(M\t. This ileclivity 
has since b(M'nt> ;lie name t>f Putnam's Hill. 

(Jeiu'ral Putnam wa8 superintend ing the new works in 
the Highlands uniil the winter of 177!), when lie visited 
Ids family, but on his leturn was unexpectetUy attacked 
by {niralysis, by whicl\ he lost the use of his limbs on one 
siile. He nt>ver recmereil, although he lived till May 19, 
1790. 

The inscription upon his tomb, fivm the pen of his 
friend, Dr. Dwight, gives the best summary of his cha- 
ractt^r. He speaks oi' him as a hero who ilared to lead 
wluMc any ilared to tollow ; as a patriot who rendered 
gallant and ilisiinguished services to his co\intry ; as a 
man whose generosity was singular, wb.ose honesty was 
proverbial, and who raiseil hin\selt to universal esteem, 
and ollices of eminent distinction, by persomd worth and 
ft useful life. 



MAJOR-(;knmiut, ifoiiatio ruTi^^s. 

Horatio (iAtio.s wuh horn in I'ji^liiiid, in llic yvdr J72S. 
His taslns in youth impcUcd liirn Nlroiif^ly to Ihc jirofcission 
of arms, and al an cnrly n^c he cfitcrcd Ihc inihlary Ncr- 
vic-(' of (Jrcal Hriliiin. Allhoii!';h lie w;is iiiuiifh-d hy lhoH(! 
advantaf^cs of hirlh and infhiciirc, which in loo many 
cases supply the want, of jxTsonal worth, yet he soon \h'.- 
came favonr.dily ltn(twn. W;ir is no pastime, and at this 
period in her hisloiy lMi;(hiiid m-eih'd men of merit for her 
service. The man wiio did liis duty in the field and th<! 
coiineil, seldom fniled lo ^ain his iippropriafe reward. 
Gates rosi! r;ipidly lo Ihr rank of niiijor, loid w;is looked 
Uj)on hy his sujieriors us one deslined lo :i hrilliunl ciireer 
in his chosen life. 

After till! pe;ic,e of Aix-la-(/h;ipelle, ;i hrief season of 
re|)ose was enjoyed hy the armies of l-'rancf :ind llrilain. 
Ihit this trealy rested iijton a fontnlalion which would not 
lonf( sland. Il, was dislionourin<( to Enghind and lenipl- 
inf^ to lier rival. I''(!W men helieved tlial it would he per- 
manent, and tin; wise and peaceahle re|.^retted that a re- 
newal of war had been rctndenid inevilahh- |»y (he injudi- 
cious terms upon which ))ea(;e [lad Ixten s(!ttled. During 
tiiis sliort season of tran(pnlli(y, (jates was stationed with 
his ref^iinenl at Jiajifax. Airn^rica had becojne an object 
ecpially interesting to botli of tlie contending parties, and 
as eacli felt that liere must be the scen<! of llie next great 
struggle for jjower, each endeavoured to maintain upon 
her soil a heavy force of »rm(Ml men. 

The first blood in tne war was shed in Virginia, at the 
battle of the Oreat Meadows, and imm<;dialely afl(;rwardfi 
K'Tope was once mon; engaged in a contest, in which, 



152 HORATIO GATES. 

as usual, England and France were tlie chief opposing 
actors. 

When General Braddock's army landed in Virginia, 
and prepared for the memorable expedition against Fort 
Duquesne, (-lates joined it with his regiment, and was pre- 
sent during all of its subsequent course. It would be 
painful to dwell upon the history of a march and a battle, 
among the most disastrous that a civilized army was ever 
engaged in. While the work of death was going on upon 
the Monongahela, the British officers were cons[)icuous 
for their gallantry and self-devotion. How many of them 
fell victims to their efforts to restore the fortune of tlie 
day, has often been told. 

The Indians recognised them without difficulty, and 
made them special marks for their rides. Sixty-three 
were either killed or wounded. During the heat of the 
contest, Gates received a severe wound, and was with 
difficulty brought off from the field, where so many of his 
comrades were left to die beneath the scalping-knife of the 
savages. 

This wound was so dangerous that, for a longtime, he 
was confined to his bed, and was unable to take part in the 
campaign which rcflectetl so much honour upon the arms 
of his country. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered, 
he rejoined his regiment, and was present in, at least, one 
iction of importance, before the peace of Paris. The 
West India Islands, held by France, had often been looked 
upon wiih eager eyes by the English ministry, and a 
strong naval and military force hovered around them, 
and threatened their capture. Martinico was the most 
important of these islands to the northtrn countiy. Its 
products were abundant, and merchant .ships were in con- 
stant passage to bear them to ports in France. So much 
was its capture desired by the English, that in 1759 a 
fleet had approached its borders, designing to land troops 
to attack it, but the defences were then so heavy that the 



ATTACK ON MARTINICO. 153 

attt'mpt was ab;iiuloiu>tl. Eiii>;liintl has seldom resigned 
a prey upon wliicli her gaze has once been fixed. 

In January, ll(r2, a lleet of eighteen ships of tlie line 
approached the ishiiid, under the command of Admiral 
Rodney. The land forces were under General Monckton, 
to whom Major Gates was aid. The whole nun\ber of 
men engaged in this enterprise was not less than twelve 
thousand. The natural defences of the island were 
strong. It was mountainous in parts, and broken into 
ileep and rugged ravines, covered with wood. The emi- 
nences were fortified with all the skill of French engi- 
neers, and besides a large force of regulur soldiers the 
militia of the island were brave and well disciplined. 

Two fortified hills oj)posed the sfrongent obstacles to 
the progii'ss of the English. Morne Torlerson was near- 
est to the port ol" landing, and iMornc Garnier, further in 
tlie interior, del'.'ndiMl the approach to Fort Uoyul and to 
St. Pierre, the capital of the island. These two emi- 
nences were to be carried before any decisive impression 
could be made. The ]Ongliah land forces advanced with 
steadiness along the beach, towards the first hill ; the 
artillery covered the light trooi)s, and ii thousand sailors, 
in tlat-bottonicd boats, rowed close to the shore to aid the 
division. After a sharp struggle, Mornc Torteuson was 
earrieil ; but the greatest difHculty yet remained. Garnicr 
was obstinately defended, and three days were employed 
in erecting batteries to drive the garrison from their post. 
But in the midst of these prei)arations, the impetuous 
courage of the French compelleil them to hazard an attack. 
In solid columns they issued from Fort Royal, and poured 
down fiom Morne Gamier upon the advanced posts 
of the enemy. The assault was firmly received, but 
overpowered by numbers the outer guard gave way, and 
the French began to hope for victory. But the main body 
of the English army rushing forward to support their 
companions, bore down the advancing cohnnns, and 



154 



HORATIO GATES. 



repulsed them with much loss. The militia dispersed mto 
the country — the regulars retreated into the town — all the 
redoubts were carried, nor did the British troops stop until 
they had gained the top of Morne Garnier, and driven 
the garrison from their guns. This advantage was deci- 
sive of the fate of the island. Without waiting for the 
batteries of the Mount to open, Fort Royal capitulated on 
the 4th of February, and a few days afterwards Martinico 
fell into the hands of the English. In this hazardous 
enterprise Major Gates rendered efficient service to his 
commander, and his reputation as a brave and prudent 
officer was considered as well established. 

After the peace of Paris, in 1763, English armies again 
had a season of rest from active duty. It was at this 
time that many British officers settled in the American 
colonies, and became identified with their interests. We 
do not know with certainty in what year Major Gates 
came to Virginia, but long before the commencement of 
the Revolution he was an inhabi:ant of her soil. He pur- 
chased a fine body of land in the county of Berkeley, 
west of the Blue Ridge, and devoted himself with success 
to agricultural pursuits. He was respected and beloved 
by his neighbours. His manners were easy and cour- 
teous, and by frequent exhibitions of a generous disposi- 
tion he gained the esteem of all. His person was remark- 
able for grace and dignity. In middle life he was a 
very handsome man, though afterwards a tendency to 
corpulency manifested itself. His services in arms were 
not forgotten, and an occasion only was wanted to call 
him again to the field. 

When the revolutionary war was at length fully 
opened, he embraced the cause of his adopted country, 
and tendered himself to Congress as one willing to se^^'e 
in the armies of America. In 1775, he joined Washing- 
ton, at Cambridge, as his adjutant, and held also the rank 
of brigadier. It was at this time that the first symptoms 



GATES WITH THE NORTHERN ARMY. 155 

of 'iissatisfaction with the commander-in-chief wrre shomi 
in the conduct of his subordinate. Ambition was the 
controlling power of the life of Gates. This quality may 
be truly said to be the characteristic of noble minds ; 
when it is modified and restrained by virtue and patriotism 
it becomes the parent of great deeds and exalted success, 
but when it reigns paramount, it seldom fails to degrade 
its subjects by urging them to doubtful courses for gain- 
ing their ends. Gates was anxious to obtain a separate 
command as brigadier-general, but when he made known 
his wishes to Washington, that prudent chief thought it 
best to decline acceding to his request. He acted upon 
reasons not unjust to his aid, and satisfactory to himself, 
but his refusal inflicted a wound which was not soon healed. 
In the subsequent events of the war correspondence some- 
times occurred between the two generals, and Washing- 
ton felt that he had cause to complain of " an air of 
design, a want of candour in many instances, and even 
of politeness," in the missives received from his inferior. 

Gates had many admirers in Congress, and friends were 
not wanting to bring him prominently before his country. 
After the death of the heroic Montgomery at Quebec, and 
the subsequent disasters which gradually drove the Ameri- 
cans from all the posts they had gained in Canada, their 
reduced army, under General Sullivan, was posted along 
the line of Lake Champlain between Ticonderoga and 
Crown Point. Privation, famine and sickness had caused 
their numbers rapidly to decline. From seven thousand 
and six effective men, they were speedily brought down to 
about three thousand, and these were very inadequately 
supplied with the munitions of war. General Sullivan 
exerted himself with commendable zeal in correcting the 
errors which had produced their misfortunes, and if he 
wrought nothing brilliant, he at least stopped the progress 
of disaster. In June, 1776, General Gates was appointed 
to the command of the Northern army. When he reached 



1.56 HORATIO GATES. 

the spot where most of the troops were concentrated, he 
found the small-pox raging among them, and daily reduc- 
ing the number who could be relied upon for active ser- 
▼ice. The quantity of powder for use was unequal to the 
demands of a campaign, and pressed by these and similar 
Jifficulties, he adopted a measure, the expediency of 
A'hich was soon called seriously into question. With- 
drawing the whole American force which had been 
stationed at Crown Point, he concentrated his army at 
Ticonderoga. The effect of this was to leave the naviga- 
tion of Lake Champlain almost undisputed to the English, 
and to expose the eastern border of New York to their 
invasion. Whether the exigencies of his condition re- 
quired this step it is not now easy to decide, but it is 
certain that experienced officers condemned it, and Wash- 
ington thought it highly injudicious. The enemy did not 
long hesitate to avail themselves of the advantages thus 
alTbrded to them. Their Heet traversed the lake undisturbed, 
and finding that his sources of supply were threatened, 
Gates determined to op})osc a naval force to the English 
armament on Champlain. Arnold was appointed to the 
command of the American flotilla. The two fleets en- 
countered each other, and though the republican leader 
and his half-trained mariners displayed desperate valour, 
they were overcome in the conflict, and only saved their 
principal vessels from capture, by running them ashore 
and blowing them up by means of slow matches, after their 
crews had abandoned them. 

After a few months Gates again joined the commander- 
in-chief, and the Northern army was assigned to General 
Schuyler. And now commenced that memorable enter- 
prise, in which England hoped to crush the spirit of 
America and reduce ner to submission, but which, in its 
results, was destined to revive the hopes of every patriot 
heart. A splendid army was prepared, that it might de- 
scend from the lakes, and subduing all intermediate opposi- 



DESCENT OF BURGOYNE. 157 

tion, might finally establish communication with the 
English general in New York, and bind the northern 
colonies in military chains. General Burgoyne had beeii 
chiefly active in urging the ministry to commence this 
enterprise, and he was placed in its command with the en- 
tire concurrence of the ruling powers. Full British and Ger- 
man regiments, amounting in all to seven thousand men, 
engaged in the expedition. They were admirably disci- 
plined, armed, and accoutred. Besides these, a train of 
artillery, more powerful and complete than any that had 
ever followed a similar army, contributed to its appearance 
and efficiency. Discarding the merciful policy of Sir 
Guy Carleton, Burgoyne invited the fiercest Indian tribes 
of the north to join his standard, and though, in his ad- 
dress to them, he urged them to abandon some of their 
savage practices, yet his proclamation to the people of 
Vermont and New York breathed a spirit of cruelty 
which roused rather than intimidated those who heard 
them. High in hope and courage, the British army ad- 
vanced from Crown Point to Ticonderoga, and crossing 
to Fort Independence, commenced its descent into Ver- 
mont. 

General Schuyler did all to oppose the progress of 
Burgoyne that his limited means and the wretched state 
of his troops would permit, but his efforts were vain. The 
advance of the enemy was steady. Post after post fell 
into their hands, nor did they meet even with a temporary 
reverse until a detachment of their army encountered the 
brave « Green Mountain Boys" at Bennington, 

At this crisis, the eyes of Congress were turned upon 
General Gates. He was looked to as the man best fitted 
to inspire renewed confidence into the dispirited lines of 
the provincial forces, and to oppose, by his military skill, 
the veterans of the English army. He was appointed to 
<Jie command of the North, and though General Schuyler 
was deeply mortified at being superseded at the very time 

Vol. I. 14 



158 HORATIO GATES. 

when his prudent measures were beginning to involve the 
enemy in trouble, yet he was too pure a patriot to spread 
discord in he army at a time so critical and dangerous. 
On the 21st of August, Gates arrived and assumed direc- 
tion of affairs : new levies of militia were constantly 
reaching his camp at Stillwater, and each day added to 
the strength of his aimy and its confidence in its com- 
mander. 

In the mean time, the situation of the British general 
began to grow perplexing. Having with immense labour 
brought forward thirty days' provisions from Fort George, 
he determined to cross the Hudson and fight his way to 
Albany, in order to open communication with New York. 
But he soon found that this step was one that involved him 
in difficulty, for which all his wisdom and courage could 
provide no remedy. Before him, was the army of Gates^ 
now amounting to more than ten thousand men, well 
posted, high in spirit, and resolved to contest every foot 
of his progress. Behind him ran the broad Hudson, to 
cross which again, in the face of a powerful foe, would have 
subjected him to severe loss. The safety of his army re- 
quired him to advance, and finding the enemy prepared 
to meet him, he formed for battle. 

The conflict of the 19th of September was obstinate 
and bloody, the British retained their ground, but in the 
open field the patriots had met them, and by their unaided 
valour had prevented their farther progress. Early in 
October, Burgoyne found it necessary to lessen the rations 
of his men, and a careful calculation convinced him that he 
could not supply his army more than a few weeks longer. 
He determined to risk another battle at Saratoga. The 7th 
of October was as fatal to his hopes as it was exhilarat- 
ing to the Americans. The British regulars, though suc- 
cessful in several desperate charges, were at last repulsed 
with much slaughter. Many guns were captured. General 
Frazer was mortally wounded, and so much were the 



VICTORY AT SARATOGA. 159 

patriots excited by their successes, th at they fi ercely assaulted 
the camp, led on by the impetuous Arnold, and nothing 
but a wound received by their leader prevented them from 
achieving a complete victory. 

Burgoyne was now driven to extremity. Hemmed in 
on every side, he could not make his escape without pierc- 
ing the lines of the enemy, and repeated attempts had 
convinced him that this hope was vain. General Lincoln 
had reached the American camp with a reinforcement of 
two thousand troops from New England. The English 
were watched with ceaseless vigilance ; each effort to 
obtain supplies was arrested ; every movement to save 
themselves by retreat was the signal for a ruinous attack, 
which reduced their force and damped their courage. Sub- 
mission became inevitable, but, to the last moment, Bur- 
goyne persisted in acting upon the defensive. Nor until 
he found that bread for a single day was all that remained 
in his camp, did he consent to open negotiations for a 
surrender. General Gates determined to hazard nothing 
by undue confidence or delay. He was courteous but 
firm in his answers to the terms proposed, and on the 17th 
of October, he drew up his army in order, and informed 
General Burgoyne that he must either sign the articles or 
prepare for battle. The capitulation was then signed. 
It was entitled " Convention between Lieutenant-general 
Burgoyne and Major-general Gates." In accordance 
with its terms, the British troops marched out in the pre* 
sence of the adverse army and laid down their arms 
upon the field. Five thousand seven hundred and ninety- 
one prisoners were thus gained by the Americans, besides 
forty-two splendid brass cannon, four thousand six hun- 
dred muskets, and an immense quantity of cartridges, 
bombs, balls, and other implements of war. 

The news of this great event spread like an electric 
shock through the country. Joy and triumph pervaded 
every patriot bosom. It seemed at last as though the 



ICO HORATIO GATES. 

cause of freedom were destined to success. When Colo- 
nel Wilkinson entered the ILdl of Confess and in brief 
terms announced the result, that body immediately voted 
thanks to General Gates and his army. They voted also, 
that a gold medal should be {)repared for him, bearing on 
one side the inscri])tion, '< Horatio Gates duci strenuo," 
and on the other, a representation of General Burgoyne 
in the act of delivering his sword. All hearts beat with 
emotions of gratitude to the man who had conducted their 
country's arms to a triumph so decisive. 

It is at this ])oiut in his history that we behold with 
sorrow the gathering of that cloud which must always 
rest upon the fame of this distinguished man. There can 
be little doubt that he yielded to the whisj)ers of ambition 
and the llattery of the injiulicious, and at least connived at 
an attempt made to supersede Washington in the supreme 
command of the American army. It cannot give us 
pleasure to dwell upon this plot. General Conway was 
the prime mover, and Mifflin and Gates were the only 
other general officers intrusted with the secret. Through 
the firujuess of some patriots, whose virtue was tempted, 
the cabal failed of success, and its disgrace speedily 
recoiled upon the heads of its authors. 

But a strong party in Congress was favourable to the 
pretensions of Gates, and though they were unable to 
invest him with the highest command, they determined 
that he should occupy a position next in dignity and 
almost independent. After the capture of Charleston, 
the enemy overran the Carolinas with their armies. A 
general seemed needed, whose very name would inspire 
hopes of victory, and Gates was appointed to the south- 
ern command. As he passed through Fredericksburg in 
Virginia, it is said that he had an interview with General 
Charles Lee, and that after parting with him that eccentric 
officer uttered the well-known prophecy, " His northern 
laurels will soon be covered over with the southern wil- 



DEFEAT AT CAMDEN. IGl 

low." He reached the camp on Deep River the 25th 
day of July. He found himself at the head of about 
three thousand six hundred troops, consisting principally 
of militia; the whole number of regulars not exceeding 
nine hundred, under the command of the bravt; Baron 
De Kalb. Lord Cornwallis had reached Camden, with 
an army of two thousand efficient soldiers, consisting of 
seventeen hundred infantry and three hundred cavalry. 
Not having certain information ;is to the force of the repub- 
licans, and depending u])on the quality of his own men, 
ne determined to advance and force Gates to battle. At 
the same lime, by a strange coincidence, the American 
general had come to a similar resolve, and each army was 
put in motion at night with the hope of surprising its 
adversary. Before daybreak, the advanced s<piadrons 
met, and a sharp firing took place without decided effect. 
Finding themselves thus unexpectedly in contact, the 
two generals, by a common impulse, susj)ended the fight 
and waited for the morning. With the return of day the 
conflict was renewed, and in the very moment of closing. 
Gates unhappily dir(!cted a total change of position for a 
part of his militia force. Undisciplined troops can never 
with saftiiy execute a lateral movement in the face of a 
foe pressing u])on them. Lord Cornwallis availed himself 
of this error, and directed Lieutenant-colonel Webster to 
charge. The Virginia militia faltered for a moment, and 
then turning their backs shamefully fled. Vain were all 
efforts of their gallant general, Stevens, to restore th(;in ; 
the panic diffused itself through the ranks ; the North Caro- 
hna troops followed the inglorious example, and in a short 
time the whole force of militia was in rout and confusion. 
Amid the rush of retreating hundreds, General Gates was 
borne from the scene. The English j)ressed upon the fugi- 
tives and cut down many in the flight, who by courage on 
the field might have turned the fortunes of the day. 
Far diflferent was the conduct of the Continentals on 
14* L 



162 HORATIO GATES. 

this fatal day. They stood to their posts with invincible 
courage, and repulsed each attack of the enemy. En- 
couraged by the presence and the voice of De Kalb, they 
opposed their bayonets alike to the charge of infantry 
and the impetuous assaults of Tarleton and his dragoons. 
Could courage alone have gained the day, they would 
have won a signal triumph, but they were borne down by 
numbers. The hero who led them received eleven 
wounds and sank upon the field, which, though disho- 
noured by the defeat of Americans, is yet invested with 
sacred interest, when we remember that it was moistened 
by the blood of De Kalb. 

The unfortunate battle of Camden terminated the mili- 
tary career of General Gates. He was removed from 
command and suspended from service until inquiry should 
be had as to his conduct. His sensitive disposition 
deeply felt the disgrace he had encountered, but his con- 
duct under this afflicting stroke was dignified and manly. 
As he passed through Richmond in Virginia, the Legisla- 
ture passed a resolution expressing their sympathy in his 
misfortune and their unabated confidence in his patriot- 
ism and skill. It was at this time, also, that he received 
a letter from Washington, which called from his heart 
expressions of the deepest feeling. He was seen to hold 
it open in his hand and often to press it firmly to his lips, 
while he repeatedly exclaimed, " Great man ! Noble, gene- 
rous procedure !" This letter contained assurances of the 
most sincere sympathy, and informed him that so soon as 
the favourable decision of the court of inquiry should be 
made, he would appoint him to the command of the right 
wing of the army. 

He retired to nis farm in Berkeley county, where for 
some years he remained an interested spectator of the 
closmg events of the war. In 1783 he was restored to 
his command, but at this time the Revolutionary struggle 
was over. In 1790, he removed to the city of New York^ 



DEATH OF GENERAL GATES. 163 

but before leaving Virginia he generously emancipated 
ail his slaves, and made ample provision for those who, 
because of age or infirmity, could not support themselves. 
On reaching New York he was presented with the free- 
dom of the city, and in the year 1800 he was elected a 
member of the State Legislature, although it is supposed 
he did not serve, his object having been fully accomplished 
by his election. 

General Gates died on the 10th day of April, 1806, in 
the seventy-ninth year of his age. He was a man o' 
warm and generous affections and of most courteous and 
fascinating manners. He was a fine classical scholar. 
His tastes led him to seek the society of the more refined, 
but he was friendly to all, and as a master he had no supe- 
rior. If he was ambitious, and if his ambition betrayed 
him into one great fault, he dearly atoned for it, and we 
have reason to believe bitterly lamented it. He was a 
steady friend of independence, of which we find the 
strongest proof in his eloquent letter to the Earl of Thanet, 
written a short time after the surrender of Burgoyne, and 
in no one act of his life can we detect the slightest infi- 
delity to that country whose cause he had adopted, and in 
gaining whose freedom he had borne a distinguished, and 
considering his abilities as a leader, on the whole a suc- 
cessful, part. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JETHRO SUMNER. 

Jethro Sumner was among the most active inhabitants 
of North Carolina in preparing for the Revolution, which 
he on an early day perceived was inevitable. By the 
Provincial Congress, which met at Hahfax on the 4th of 
April, 1776, he was appointed colonel of the third regi- 
ment, and on the 9th of January, 1779, he was appointed 
u brigadier-general in the continental service. 



MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM, EARL OF 
STIRLING. 

William Alexander, better known by his title of Lord 
Stirling, was born at the city of New York, in the year 
1726. His father, James Alexander, was a native of 
Scotland, who took refuge, in this country, in 1716, in con- 
sequence of the part he had taken in favour of the Preten- 
der, the year previous. He seems to have joined the 
standard of that royal adventurer, rather from national than 
political predilection ; for his family connections were 
Whigs, and it was through their interest that he obtained 
employment, on his arrival at New York, in the office of 
the secretary of the province. He had served in Scotland 
as an officer of engineers ; and his mathematical acquire- 
ments, which were extensive and profound, recommended 
him to the appointment of surveyor-general of New Jersey 
and New York. His leisure he devoted to the study of 
the law, in the practice of which he attained, according 
to Mr. Smith the historian, << great eminence, from his 
profound legal knowledge, sagacity, and penetration." In 
1720 he became a member of the provincial council, and 
proved himself, throughout a political career continuing 
until his death, a zealous, enlightened, and staunch ad- 
herent to Hberal principles, and finally lost his Hfe by 
repairing to Albany, when suffering from severe illness, 
to oppose a ministerial project oppressive to the colony.* 
He was not less eminent as a man of science, than as a 
lawyer and a patriot. With Dr. Franklin and others, he 
founded the American Philosophical Society ; and he 
maintained a correspondence with the astronomer royal at 

• Smith's History of New York, vol. 2, p. 281, ed. 1830. 
164 



AID-DE-CAMP TO GENERAL SHIRLEY. 165 

Greenwich, and with several learned mathematicians on 
the European continent, on subjects of their common pur- 
suits. He died in 1756, leaving an ample fortune, the 
reward of his industry, talents, and integrity. 

To his only son, the subject of this memoir, he gave 
the best education which the country at that time afforded, 
besides personal instruction in the exact sciences, in 
which the latter became almost as great a proficient as his 
father. The mother, also, was an extraordinary person. 
At the time of her marriage with Mr. Alexander, she was 
a widow, engaged extensively in commercial business, 
which she had pursued as the successor of her first hus- 
band, and continued on her separate account after her 
second marriage. The son, early in life, became first her 
clerk and afterwards her co-partner ; and the firm having 
obtained a contract for the supply of the king's troops, 
the junior partner joined the commissariat of the army. 
The military spirit he displayed in the field, in addition to 
the punctual performance of his civil duties, attracted the 
notice of the commander-in-chief. General Shirley, who 
invited him to join his staff, as aid-de-camp and private 
secretary. In this capacity he served for three severe 
campaigns on the Canadian frontier, in the war, which, 
though not formally declared in Europe until 1756, com- 
menced on this continent several years before. 

Upon General Shirley's recall, his secretary accompanied 
him to England, to assist in the settlement of his accounts, 
and vindicate, by his testimony, the conduct of his com- 
mander. He was accordingly examined as a witness on 
his behalf at the bar of the House of Commons, in April, 
1757 ; and his evidence tended materially to the justifica- 
tion of his former commander. By the candour and intel- 
ligence with which it was delivered, he won for himself the 
marked approbation of the House, which led to his intro- 
duction to several of the most conspicuous public charac- 
ters in Great Britain. It appears from his correspondence 



166 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

that he soon gained their esteem and confidence, as ii]ion 
further intercourse they became convinced of the justice 
of his views, and the candour of his representations in 
regi\rd to the mutual interests of the mother country and 
her colonies, as well as attracted by his personal and 
social accomplishments. 

His fatlier, when he quitted Scotland, was known to be 
the presumptive heir to the earldom of Stirling. On the 
death, however, of its possessor in 1737, without male 
issue, James Alexander forbore, not only from the circum 
stances under which he had quitted the land of his birth, 
but from his want of fortune and the ties he had formed 
in that of his choice, to prefer his claim to a title, which, 
under no circumstances, could have possessed much attrac- 
tion for one of his moderate views and philosophical 
temper. With his son the case was different ; his paternal 
inheritance had been increased by marriage,* so that in- 
dependently of his expectations from his mother, his 
fortune was sufficient for the support of a Scotch peerage. 
But he was impelled by more prudential motives than 
the mere acquisition of a title, to substantiate his claim. 

The estates in Scotland of a former Earl of Stirling had 
been sequestrated for the payment of his debts. But 
there remained large tracts of lajid in America, held unde/ 
grants from James I. to the first earl, which, from theii 
remoteness and inconsiderable value at that period, had 
escaped the sequestration. William Alexander was en- 
couraged to believe that if he could establish his right tc 
the succession, the family estates still in possession of the 
crown would be restored to him. Having obtained the 
opinion of Mr. Wedderburnef in London, and of the 
most eminent counsel in Edinburgh in favour of his claim, 



• He had marricil Sarah, the eldest daughter of Philip Livingston, pro- 
prietor of the manor of that name. 

I Afterwards Lord t'hancellor, and raised to the peerage, first as Baroo 
lioughborougb, and afterwards, on his retirement, as Earl of Rosslyn. 



HIS CLAIMS TO THE PEERAOE. 167 

he repaired to the latter city and remained there a year, 
engaged in collecting, with the aid of an able solicitor,* 
the testimony requisite for its judicial assertion. In this 
he succeeded, by proving, before the proper local tribunal, 
his descent from John Alexander, an uncle of the first 
earl, and his collateral j^ropinquity as next male heir to 
the last. By the Scottish law, which differs in this re- 
spect from the law of England, a grant or patent not 
expressly limited to heirs male in the direct line, inures 
to the benefit not only of collateral descendants from the 
original grantee, but, in their default, devolves on the 
nearest male-heir-general in the collateral line. The 
counsel of Mr. Alexander were of opinion that the legis- 
lative union between England and Scotland had wrought 
no change in this respect in the law of the latter kingdom, 
and that his right, therefore, to the peerage resulted from 
his having, in due form of law, proved his relationship as 
collateral heir-male-general to the late earl. By their 
advice he immediately assumed the title, and from that 
time continued ever afier to use and receive it, not merely 
in the ordinary intercourse of private society, but in his 
correspondence with the ministers of the crown, and their 
subordinate officials, both in Great Britain and her colo- 
nies. But the Duke of Newcastle, then prime minister, 
conceived it proper that Lord Stirling should petition the 
House of Lords to recognise his title. To this, by the 
advice of his counsel in Scotland, seconded by the remon- 
strances against it by some Scottish peers of his ac- 
quaintance, he at first objected ; but to avoid giving offence 
to those upon whose favour he depended for the restora- 
tion of his territorial rights, he eventually consented. He 
petitioned accordingly, but while the matter was pending, 
he was recalled to New York by the death of his mother. 



• Andrew Stuart, ttic friend and ansociate of Adam Smith, Humet 
Robertson, and other eminent literary characters in Scotland. 



168 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

When he left England, it was his intention again to repair 
thither and await the issue of his petition ; but the unusual 
length of his passage out rendered his return incompati- 
ble with the personal attention required by his affairs in 
America. The proceedings on his petition were suffered 
to languish, and the last heard of the subject was its post- 
ponement to the next session of parliament. Nothing, 
however, was ever done in relation to it then or since, and 
tlie peerage still remains vacant, although other claimants 
have appeared and failed to make good their pretensions. 

We have dwelt longer on this subject than its import- 
ance may have seemed to require ; but our purpose was 
to vindicate the memory of Lord Stirling, not merely from 
the aspersions of enemies, who have represented him as a 
usurper of honours to which he had neither title nor pre- 
tence, but from the tacit acquiescence of professing friends, 
who in their imperfect records even of his public services 
have failed to do justice to his private character. We 
gladly turn to the subsequent portion of a life devoted to 
objects more worthy of pursuit and of attainment. 

Upon the return of Lord Stirling to his native country, 
he gave himself with new zeal to her concerns. He had 
succeeded his father as surveyor-general of New Jersey. 
and he now busied himself in collecting materials for u 
new map of North America. Further evidence of his 
scientific employments at this period is preserved in the 
library of the Historical Society of New York, in a manu- 
script account of an observation of a transit of Venus, 
which he made for the purpose of verifying the longitude 
of New York. As a governor of King's, now Columbia 
College, he exerted his influence with the Earl of Bute, 
Lord Romney, and others of his powerful friends among 
the patrons of learning in England, to procure an endow- 
ment for that institution, then languishing in its infancy. 
He had upon his arrival resumed his residence in New 
York. Not long afterwards he commenced building ai 



HIS PRIVATE LIFE. 169 

Baskenridge, upon an extensive property which his father 
had acquired as a proprietary of East Jersey. Upon the 
completion of his house, he made that place his summer 
residence, and eventually his permanent abode. 

Soon after his removal, he was chosen a member of the 
Provincial Council, and continued to hold that office until 
the Revolution. In the public duties it devolved on 
him, in addition to those of surveyor-general — and in 
others assumed with the laudable object of adding to 
what was then known of the geography of this continent — 
he employed his time usefully to his country, and honoura- 
bly to himself, whilst his leisure was spent in the enlight- 
ened efforts of a landed proprietor, solicitous at once to 
raise the value of his estates, and to promote the pros- 
perity and happiness of all about him. He exercised a 
generous hospitality, and maintained an extensive corre- 
spondence both at home and abroad. Upon the appointment 
of the Earl of Shelburne, afterwards Marquis of Lans- 
downe, to preside at the Board of Trade and Plantations, 
Lord Stirling addressed to him a letter, containing an 
account of his occupations, and suggesting measures for 
promoting the welfare of the colonies, and rendering them 
more conducive to the mutual prosperity of the mother 
country and to themselves. '< The wants," he observes, 
" of these provinces, and their increasing population, 
must at all events greatly increase the manufactures of 
the mother country. The suppression of such branches 
of trade as interfere with the importation from Great 
Britain, and the encouragement of such a cultivation in 
the colonies as will supply her with raw materials, for 
which she now pays millions to foreign nations, is a work 
that must render the value of this continent to Great 
Britain inestimable." He then alludes to his projects for 
the manufacture of iron, and the cultivation of hemp and 
introduction of the vine, and observes that «<the matur- 
ing these plans, settling a farm in the wikfi^.mess, and 

Vol. I. 15 



170 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

bringing to it some of the productions and improvements 
of Europe, are my present employments They have 
taken place," he says, " of the pleasures of London, and 
I sometimes persuade myself that this is the happier life 
of the two. Yet," he continues, "there are some hours 
I could wish to have repeated. Those in which I was 
honoured with your lordship's conversation, I shall ever 
recollect with the greatest pleasure." 

Whilst engaged in these useful and tranquil occupations, 
the even tenor of his life was interrupted by the attempt 
of a Tory administration to tax the colonies without the 
consent of their representatives in the local legislatures. 
Mr. George Grenville, the political adversary, although the 
brother-in-law of the elder William Pitt, had succeeded 
him as first minister of the crown, and had carried through 
parliament the ill-advised stamp-act. The indignation 
with which this offensive measure was received in Ame- 
rica, was such as might have been predicted from the 
character of the colonists, descended, as most of them 
were, from the sturdy republicans who first settled New 
England, and inheriting their tenacity of civil rights with 
perhaps greater jealousy of .religious, if not of political 
liberty. Lord Stilling was among the foremost and most 
efficient opposers of this rash and obnoxious policy. 
He encouraged a passive resistance to the execution of the 
act, by promoting an agreement to dispense with the 
stamp paper without prejudice to the contracts in which 
its use was required. By his influence in New Jersey, he 
procured the removal of the parliamentary agent of that 
province, who had failed to oppose the odious enactment, 
and obtained the appointment for the eminent solicitor 
who had acted for him in London.* A letter from this 
gentleman, announcing the repeal of the act, shows his 



• Henry Wilmot, secretary successively to the Lord Chancellors Nor 
thingtoa and Camden. 



JOINS THE CONTINENTAL LINE. 171 

agreement in sentiment with Lord Stirling. "I entirely 
agree," he says, "with your lordship, that we should be 
content with your commerce, which, indeed, is all that is 
valuable in colonies; and if this commerce will bring 
every farthing of your money to Great Britain, we can 
have no more." 

A Whig, not merely from education and early associa- 
tions, but from the convictions of his maturer judgment, 
Lord Stirling was ever true to his principles. He had 
resisted the execution of the stamp-act, and assisted in 
procuring its repeal. With equal determination, he op- 
posed the subsequent expedients, by which, in another 
form, it was sought to raise a revenue in America, by the 
authority of the British parliament. When resistance in 
Massachusetts was followed by the shedding of blood, 
he was among the first in the other colonies to take up 
arms in what he felt to be the common cause. The mili- 
tary experience he had gained under Shirley, with his 
local influence and personal popularity, led to his being 
chosen, in the summer of 1775, by the people of the 
county in which he resided, to the command of a regi- 
ment which he had been instrumental in raising. He 
exhibited his characteristic energy and activity in recruit- 
ing and organizing his regiment, supplying arms at his 
own expense, to such of his men as were unable to arm 
themselves. He had issued orders for a general review 
and muster, but before the day appointed for it to take 
place, he was transferred to the command of the first of 
two regiments, directed by Congress to be raised in New 
Jersey, for the continental service. Into this, he was fol- 
lowed by most of the officers and men from his militia 
regiment. Upon receiving this appointment, he repaired 
to Philadelphia, to confer with his friends in Congress. 
He then visited, in rapid succession, various parts of New 
Jersey, to procure recruits, collect arms and ammunition, 
and prepare barracks. He soon succeeded in completing 



172 WILLIAM, KARL OF STIRLING 

his rof^iinriit, and within one week from reccivint^ uis 
commission established its head-qnarters :jt Kliz;\l)eth- 
town. He then conunenred preparations for defending 
any vessels that might take refii<i;e in the adjoining waters, 
from molestation by the British crnisers in the bay and 
harbour of New York ; and he asked and received from 
Congress authority to take for tlie i)ublic use from the 
merchant vessels in those waters, whatever ammunition 
they might have on board, upon payment of its value. 

Early in January, 177C, he received orders from Gene- 
ral Washington, then at (-andjridge, to reinforce General 
Lee, at. New York, with the troops from New Jersey. 
While ])rej)aring to execute these orders, information 
reached him that a British armed transport, laden with 
stores for the troops at Boston, was hovering oil' Sandy 
Hook in distress, waiting for assistance from llu' king's 
shi])s at New York, He immediately jjroceeded to Perth 
Amboy, seizi'd upon a \n\o\ l)oat, manned her with volun- 
teers, and being joined by three smaller vessels with his 
recruits, and others from I'^ii/abethtown, whom he had 
(lirect«Nl to follow him, he put to sea, and in the night fell 
in with the enemy's ship, nearly twenty miles from Sandy 
Hook, attacked and carried her with musketry alone, 
although she had on board six brass cannon, besides small 
arms and a crew of twenty nu-n. Tiie next day he con- 
dueted his j)rize safely into Amboy, while the Asia man- 
of-war and her lender lay in full view at anchor in the 
bay of New York. The promptness with which this 
enterprise was conceived, and the gallantry with which it 
was executed, at once establi.shed the character of Lord 
Stirling for zeal, activity, and good conduct, and gained 
for him one of the first votes of thanks granted by Con*- 
gress. 

On the 4th of February, he received orders from General 
Lee to march with his regiment ',o New York. He ac- 
cunlingly set out the following day, iiud crossing the 



FOUTIFIKS NKW V O R K. 



173 



Hudson with difTuuilly Ihrougli ihv. ice, arrived there on 
the 6th. On the first of March he was promoted to the 
rank of brif^acJicr-f^jcneral ; and his cotnniission was trans- 
mitted to him, accom|>ani(!d by a highly conijilimcntary 
letter from the President of Congress. 

General Ii<'c ix-ing soon aflcr ordered to llie soulhward, 
Lord Stirling riunainc^d for a season in the chief cointnand 
at New York. lie inunedialeiy directed his ellorls to 
cutting off tin; coMmiuiiicalion Ix'lvveen the king's ships 
in the hay, and the inhabit ants of Long and Stalen Islands; 
and preparing quarters f()r the army under General Wash- 
ington, who intended lo march (hitlier as soon as the 
enemy should have left I'oston. 

The American force at New York, including the volun- 
teers from the city, did not amount to two tliousarid men. 
Lord Stirling, tiierefi^re, in expectation that the Ihitish fleet 
and artny would proceed imnnidialely to New York, called 
for additional troops from Connecticut and New Jersey, 
as w(;ll as f()r th(; full quota to l)e furnished i)y New York. 
Meanwhile lie enijiloyed those In; already had in fortifying 
the commanding points in the harbour. In this, the troops 
were assisted by tin; inhabitants of the city and its neigh- 
bourhood. In addition to otiier motives to exertion, tliey 
knew that their commauder was stimulated by the assur- 
ance of General Washington, that " the fate of this cam- 
paign, and of course the fate of America, depends on you 
and the army under your command, should the emnny 
attempt your quarter." 

For a short period liord Stirling was superseded in hi^ 
command, by the arrival at New York of his senior ofhcer, 
Brigadier-general Thompson. He employed th(; interval 
in superintending th(! construction of additional works on 
the Jersey shore of the Hudson, (ic^neral Ttiompson being 
fcoon afterwards ordered to the Canadian frontier, the chief 
command at New York once more devolved on Lord 



174 wiLV, lAM, i:arl of Stirling. 

Stirling, who again applied himself to the completion of 
its defences. 

General Washington arrived there with his army on the 
14th of April. The British commander-in-chief, Sir 
William Howe, instead of proceeding directly to New 
York, retired to Halifax, to await reinforcements from Eng- 
land. It was near the end of June before the fleet under 
the command of his brother, Lord Howe, on board of 
which was the army, entered Sandy Hook ; and the lattei 
was not disembarked until the day on which Congress de- 
clared the independence of the United States. 

After a further delay of more than six w^eks, during 
which the Briiish army had landed on Staten Island, it 
was re-embarked, and again landed under cover of the 
fleet, at Gravesend on Long Island. General Washington, 
unwilling to hazard a general and decisive battle with a 
force in many respects superior to his own, attempted no 
more than the temporary check and annoyance of the 
enemy. He remained, himself, with the reserve of the 
army within the city, intrusting the chief command on 
Long Island to General Putnam, who had under him 
Generals Greene, Sullivan, and Stirling, the former of 
whom was confined by severe illness to his bed. 

On the night of the '2b{h of August, the British general, 
Grant, w-ith five thousand men and ten pieces of cannon, 
was reported to be advancing from the Narrows, along the 
shores of the bay. Lord Stirling was directed by Putnam 
to oppose this formidable force with the two continental 
regiments nearest at han/1. Soon after day-break on the 
26th, he came within sight of the enemy before whom our 
advanced parties were retiring. These he rallied, and 
being joined by some artillery, made the necessary dis- 
position of his men, and commenced skirmishing when 
within a hundred and fif^y yards of the enemy. The 
firing was kept up briskly on both sides for two hours, 
when the British light troops retired, though the cannon 



TAKEN PRI90NEU. 175 

ading between the parties continued for some time after- 
wards. 

Another body of the enemy, under Lord Cornwallis, now 
gained the rear of Lord Stirling, who at once perceived 
that an immediate retreat could alone save his detachment. 
Ordering the main body of his force to make the best of 
their way through the Gowannis Creek, he placed himself 
at the head of four hundred of Smallwood's regiment, and 
attacked Cornwallis, who was advantageously posted in a 
house at Luqueer's mills, near which the remainder of 
Lord Stirling's troops was to pass the creek. The attack 
was maintained with so much intrepidity and persever- 
ance, that the British general was about being driven from 
his station, when he received a reinforcement which com- 
pelled his assailants to draw oflf. Lord Stirling had, 
however, secured the retreat of the main body of his de- 
tachment ; and his object now was to provide for the" 
safety of the gallant remnant he had retained with him In 
this attempt he was met by fresh bodies of the enemy in 
every direction, but he had himself succeeded in turning 
the point ^f a hill covering him from their fire, when he 
was intercepted by a corps of Hessians under General de 
Heister, to whom he was compelled to surrender. Gene- 
ral Washington bore the strongest testimony to the bravery, 
skill, and pertinacity with which Lord Stirling had attacked 
the enemy, and by the sacrifice of himself saved his de- 
tachment ; and he took the earliest opportunity to effect 
his exchange : while Congress, in acknowledgment of his 
conduct, promoted him to the rank of major-general. 

In this capacity he joined the army on its memorable 
retreat through New Jersey, ^nd took part in the operations 
on the Delaware, where he again signalized himself by 
the successful defence of Coryell's Ferry. When the 
army went into winter quarters at Morristown, General 
Washington selected Lord Stirling to command on the 
lines immediately c>])posite to the enemy. Here he was 



176 WILLJAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

frequently engaged with strong parties of the British and 
Hessians detached on predatory and other more important 
expeditions into the country. On one of these occasions, 
his old antagonist, CornwalHs, had marched out in great 
force from Pertli-Amboy, and advanced as far as tlie " Short 
hills" near Springfield, with the view, as it was supposed, 
of breaking up General Washington's winter quarters at 
Morristow^n. Lord Stirling put himself at the head of the 
few regular troops he had with him on the lines, encoun- 
tered the advance of the British detachments with great 
gallantry, and at length, when compelled by superior 
numbers to retreat, took so advantageous a position as 
to arrest the progress of the enemy, and frustrate his 
design. 

Upon the opening of the campaign of 1777, he again 
encountered a formidable party of the enemy under the 
same commander, and after sustaining an attack with his 
usual courage and constancy for some time, he was com- 
pelled by their superior strength to retire from the open 
country, with the loss of three of his field-pieces ; but 
gaining an advantageous position among the hills near 
Middlebrook, he made so obstinate a stand as to arrest the 
further progress of the enemy. This and similar checks 
induced Su" William Howe to abandon his attempt to 
reach Philadelphia by land. 

Lord Sdrling was now detached with his division to the 
Hudson, to reinforce the army intended to operate against 
Burgoyne, But v^^hen he had reached the highlands, he 
was recalled, in consequence of intelligence of the em- 
barkation of the British troops at New York, with the pro- 
bable design of proceeding to Philadelphia. The Ame- 
ncan army now took up a position on the Brandywine, 
to oppose tlie advance of the enemy upon the seat of the 
continental government, and General Washington deter- 
mined to hazard a battle for its protection. In the action 
which followed, Lord Stirling threw himself, w'ith .SuU'van 



THE CONWAY r\BAL. 177 

and Lh f ayette, personally into the conflict, while the divi- 
sion of the former was retreating ; and they maintained 
their ground until the American force was completely 
broken, and when the -^nemy were within twenty yards 
of them they made good their retreat into the woods. At 
the battle of Germantown, fought soon afterwards, Lord 
Stirling commanded the reserve, composed of the New- 
Jersey and North Carolina regiments, and was actively 
engaged at the close of the action, when Brigadier-general 
Nash, who commanded the North Carolina troops, wa<5 
slain upon the field. 

Encouraged by the good conduct of his troops in this 
engagement, General Washington meditated an attack 
upon Philadelphia. He submitted the subject to the con- 
sideration of a council of war, a majority of which were 
against the proposal. Lord Stirling, who was in the 
minority, was requested by the rest to draw a plan for tiie 
attack, which they submitted to the commander-in-chief. 
Upon receiving it, General V/ashington proceeded in per- 
son to reconnoitre the defences of the enemy ; but he 
came to the conclusion that the works were too strong to 
be carried without great loss, and the design of assaulting 
them Was reluctantly abandoned. The army then went 
into winter-quarters at Valley Forge. 

The winter of 1777-8 was rendered memorable by the 
discovery of a plot for superseding General Washington 
in the chief command of the army — known, from its prime 
mover, as the "Conway Cabal." Emboldened by the 
success of Gates at Saratoga, and encouraged by some 
symptoms of hostility which had been manifested towards 
Washington in Congress, some restless spirits in the army, 
the principal of whom, besides Gates himself, were Gene- 
rals Conway and Mifflin, engaged in an intrigue with 
some of the disaffected in Congress to substitute their 
chief in the place of Washington. They relied of course 
upon the eclat Gates had acquired from the surrender of 

M 



nS W/LLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

Burgoyne. But they forgot that his good fortune on ihat 
occasion was more owing to the previous dispositions of 
General Schuyler, who had preceded him in the command, 
than to his own military skill, and they failed to make allow- 
ance for the constitutional weakness and irresolution of a 
leader upon whose vanity they had practised with success. 
This conspiracy was defeated principally through the in- 
strumentality of Lord Stirling. It was brought to his 
knowledge through the convivial indiscretion of Wilkinson, 
one of the minor })arties, who was aid-de-camp to General 
Gates, and had been despatched by him to Congress with 
the account of his success. Wilkinson, on his way to 
Congress, stopped at Lord Stirling's head-quarters, at 
Reading, in Pennsylvania, and dined at his table on the 
day he arrived. After Lord Stirling had withdrawn, 
Wilkinson repeated to Major Mc Williams, an aid of Lord 
Stirling's, the well-known passage in the letter of Conway 
to Gates : " Heaven has determined to save your country, 
or a weak general and bad counsellors would have ruined 
it." McWilliams considered it his duty to communicate 
the affair to Lord Stirling, who in his turn felt bound by 
private friendship as well as public duty to inform Gene- 
ral Washington. For this, an efibrt was made by the 
conspirators to disparage his character, by charging him 
with a breach of hospitality; but the attempt recoiled 
upon the heads of those who were themselves parties to a 
treacherous intrigue, and secretly engaged in circulating 
the grossest calumny. 

The army remained at the Valley Forge until the eva 
cuation of Philadelphia, by Sir Henry Chnton, who had 
succeeded Sir William Howe in the command of the 
British forces. As soon as he was apprized of that move- 
ment, General Washington started in pursuit of the ene- 
my, with the intention of hanging on his rear, harassing 
him on his march, and in case of a favourable opportunity 
bringing him to action, which at length was accomphshed 



CAPTURE OF PAULUS HOOii. 179 

at Monmouth Court-house. In the battle that ensued, 
Lord Stirling commanded the left wing of the American 
army, and at the crisis of the engagement produced by the 
unexpected retreat of General Lee, he brought forward a 
detachment of artillery which played with such effect 
upon the enemy as to prevent his profiting by the advan- 
tage he had gained. To retrieve the day, a British column 
then attempted to turn Lord Stirling's left flank, but were 
repulsed by the infantry of his division. 

In the October following, he was ordered to Elizabeth- 
town, to command the troops engaged in watching the 
British fleet and army at New York. Upon the opening 
of the campaign of 1779, he was directed to take post at 
Pompton with the Virginia division, and cover the coun- 
try towards the Hudson. Major Henry Lee, who, with 
his light horse, formed part of Lord Stirling's command, 
having learned that the advanced party of the enemy at 
Paulus Hook was remiss in keeping guard, formed the 
project of surprising it. His suggestion being approved. 
Lord Stirling furnished the necessary force, and took part 
in person with a strong detachment in covering Lee's re- 
treat. The enterprise was successful ; and, for the part 
he had taken in the aflair. Lord Stirling received the 
thanks of the commander-in-chief, and of Congress. 

When the army again went into winter quarters at 
Morristown, Lord Stirling was detached at the head of two 
thousand men to attempt the surprise of the British posts on 
Staten Island. He succeeded in crossing to the island on 
the ice, but failed in taking the enemy by surprise. The 
enemy's works were too strong to be taken by assault^ and 
the communication by water with New York, from which 
the enemy might be reinforced, was unexpectedly found 
Jo be open. The attack, therefore, was abandoned ; but 
some sharp skirmishing took place on the retreat, a charge 
on the rear by the enemy's cavalry was repelled, and a 
few prisoners were brought off by the Americans. 



180 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

The campaign of 1780 was not distinguished by any 
important event in the northern states, and Lord StirHng, 
after a long absence, was enabled to visit his family, and 
look after his concerns at Baskenridsre. 

The next year he was ordered to Albany, to take com- 
mand of the army collecting there, to resist another 
threatened invasion from Canada. He assembled the main 
body of his troops at Saratoga, and prepared to defend the 
passage of the Hudson at Fort Miller. The invading 
army, under St. Leger, had advanced as far as Lake 
George, when its commander was deterred by the seve- 
rity of the weather from proceeding further, or determined 
by intelligence of Cornwallis's surrender to retrace his 
steps. Having ascertained that he had reached Ticon- 
deroga in his retreat, Lord Stirling dismissed the militia of 
his command, left his regular troops at Saratoga, under 
command of General Stai'k, and returned himself to 
Albany. 

He afierwards resumed his command in New Jersey, 
and established his head-quarters for the winter at Phila- 
delphia, which was within his military district. Early in 
the next summer, there were rumours of another expedi- 
tion being on foot from Canada, and Lord Stirling was 
once more ordered to Albany. The favourite object of 
forming a junction between a British army from Canada, 
and that in New York, was again revived, but no real 
movements for effecting it was made, and Lord StirUng 
had only to remain on the alert, and keep himself informed 
of the intentions of the enemy. 

His useful and honourable career was now brought 
suddenly to a close. The fatigue of body and mind to 
which he had been subjected, during his command on an 
important and exposed frontier, added to the arduous and 
unremitting service in which he had been engaged from 
the commencement of the war, brought on a violent 
attack of the gout, to wliich he was subject, and which aow 



HIS DEATH. 181 

proved fatal. He died at Albany, on the 15th of January, 
1783, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and within one 
week of the solemn recognition by treaty of his country's 
independence. His death was scarcely less deeply la- 
mented by the troops he had commanded,* than by his near- 
est connections and most attached friends. He was indeed 
regretted by all who had known him, and by many who, 
unacquainted with him personally, lamented the loss to the 
public of the influence of his character, and the benefit 
of his services. No stronger evidence can be given of the 
estimation in which he was held, than the manner in 
which his death was communicated to Congress by the 
commander-in-chief, the resolutions passed by that body 
on receiving the inteUigence, and above all by the touch- 
ing letter of condolence addressed to his widow by Gene- 
ral Washington. 

Both his public and private character are illustrated by 
his letters, and by his acts. The former have long been 
accessible to all who feel an interest or curiosity in the 
events of his life and times,! and of the latter it may 
emphatically be said — 

" Aclis, aevum irnplct non segnibus annis." 

When these states were colonies, he endeavoured to 
promote their growth by enlightened suggestions to their 
rulers in the mother country ; by his own example and 
his advice to others he sought to multiply the objects of 
agricidtural production among his countrymen, and to 
develop the mineral wealth of the state in which he was 
born, and of that in which he resided ; he aided in found- 
ing a library for diffusing knowledge among the inhabitants 



• It so happened that he had had under his command, at different times 
during the war, every brigade in the American army, except those of 
South Carolina and Georgia. 

f In the collections of the Historical Societies of New York and New 
Jersey. 

Vol. I. 16 



1 82 WILLIAM, EARL OF STIRLING. 

of his native city, and fostering in its infancy a literary 
institution* that has sent forth numerous bands of ingenu- 
ous youth, fitted for a career of usefulness and honour. 
An ardent lover of his country, an unflinching defender 
of her liberty, he resolutely opposed the first attempts to 
subjugate the one and assail the other. When the ordi- 
nary means had failed to obtain redress from a stubborn 
king, and equally obstinate parliament, he encouraged and 
promoted measures, rendering their illegal schemes of 
taxation nugatory ; and when it was attempted to put 
down constitutional resistance by military force, he was 
among the fust to take up arms ; and he never laid them 
down until he died on the eve of his country's triumph. 
Amid the various discouragements that perplexed the 
struggle, he never wavered or despaired of success. In 
equal disregard of the high rank in the parent state, and 
of the large territorial domain in the colonies, which a 
contrary course would have insured to him, he persevered 
to the last in support of that cause for which he had 
pledged his hfe antl fortune, and in which he literally 
lost them both. His private fortune was sacrificed in the 
contest, and lie hft nothing to his descendants but 
what he bequeathed to his country and mankind: — '<An 

HONOURABLE EXAMPLE OF A MAN, COUNTING NOTHING OF 
VALUE IN COMPARISON WITH THE SACRED MAINTENANCE 
OF IIIS PRINCIPLES, AND SINKING EVERY SELFISH CONSIDE- 
RATION IN THE ONE STRONG AND CONTROLLING FEELING OS 
.VN ARDENT PATRIOTISM. "f 



• King's, now Columbia College. 

I North American Review, No. cxxxv., April, 1847. 



MAJOR-GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER 

The earliest mention we have of Philip Schuyler is frcni 
the pen of Mrs, Grant, daughter of an officer in the British 
array, who spent much time in the family of Mrs. Schuy- 
ler, (or "Aunt Schuyler," as she was called in affectionate 
reverence,) while the future American general was yet a 
youth. He had been adopted into this well-ordered family 
early in life, and shared largely the afTections of the house- 
hold. She describes him as a handsome youth, of most 
engaging manners; resolute, persevering, and singularly 
prudent in all matters of business. His subsequent history 
fully justifies the opinion thus early formed ; for such was 
the cleverness and efficiency, the despatch and energy 
with which Schuyler conducted the ardous duties enjoined 
upon him by Congress, that we hazard nothing in assert- 
ing that, without his co-operation both in personal service 
and necessary funds, the northern army could not have 
sustained itself in the field a single campaign. We may 
add, likewise, that the cruel injustice which sacrificed the 
noble Schuyler to the vain and ambitious Gates, is an in- 
direct compliment to the tried patriotism of the former. 
Had not even his enemies been fully assured of the mag- 
nanimity of their man, they would not have dared to tam- 
per with one possessed of the wzaUh and injlucnce of Philip 
Schuyler, at such a time. Arnold and Stark had little beside 
personal intrepidity to bring into the field ; but Schuyler's 
influence was extensive and essential like theirs ; equally 
brave, he was possessed likewise of a composed and 
equable mind, bearing a strong analogy to that of the 
commander-in-chief; and to these essentials he combined 
an ample fortune, which he was ever ready to expend in 
the great cause in which he was engaged. 



184 PHILIP SCIIUYLEU. 

His f.imily was of Dutch orijrin, and one of the most 
ancient in the colonii-s; in the earlier reconis of which the 
name of Schuyler figures hirgely in otlices inv(>lving trust 
and importance ; while in the history of the Six Nations, 
especially in that of the renowned Mohawks, it must re- 
main linkeil lor ever, no other tamily in the country ever 
having possessed in so high a degree the conlidence of 
these modern lleracliihv. Philip Schuyler was born at 
Albany, November '22d, 1733. His father having died 
while he was yet young, he was adopted into the family 
of Colonel Philip Schuyler, of the Flats, as Saratoga was 
at that time designateil, whose estate at that place he 
afterwards inherited; so that the great scene of his un- 
tiring labours for his country — the scene of his sacrifices, 
triumphs, and humiliations — was upon his own acres, in 
sight of all the recollections of his childhooil and youth, 
amid the mouldering ashes of his once princely home, 
which the army of Burgoyne had wantonly destroyed ; and 
here it w^as, when the laurel of victory was ready to de- 
scend upon his own brow, that Congress wrenched it 
aside to place it upon his who never feared an enemy, 
and who " entered into the bride's feast" which the haniis 
of Schuyler had prepared. 

At twenty-two he was selected to the office of commis- 
sary to the army then preparing for an evpeilition against 
Canada. The otficers of Lord Howe remonstrated against 
this, as involving too much trust for so young a man ; but 
the etliciency and despatch with which he discharged the 
anluous duties ol' the otiice, fully justitied the coulidence 
ami discernment of that nobleman. The defeat of the 
army, the disasters of Ticonderoga, and the unfortunate 
death of Lord Howe, threw a tlouble weight ot' responsi- 
bility upon young Schuyler, who was intimately acquainted 
with that region of country, and whose influence was most 
neeilful to curb the recklessness of the IMohawks, who 
would yield service only to a Schuyler. It became his 



RESISTS RRITISH AGGRKSSIv^N. 185 

melancholy office, likewise, to convey thr- hofly of hi.-j 
lamentefJ frif^nfl, Lord Howe, to Albany, a here it was 
honournbly interred. He continued to act in aid of the 
army, till the peace of 1763 restored him once more to the 
elet^ancips of home, but not to its repose. 

His education, position, and well-known public ability 
were too important to the wellbeing of the country, to be 
suffered to lie in idleness. He was appointed to various 
important oflices in the growing troubles of the period, all 
of which he discharged with benefit to his country, and 
honour to himself. He held a seat in the Assembly of 
New Vork, at that time one of considerable momf-nt, the 
members holding their places for seven years, the numbr^r 
being few, and chosen exclusively from fieeholders. Here 
his bold systematic opposition to the aggressive measures 
of the British crown, placed him foremost amongst the 
patriots of the day ; though one of the rninoriiy at a time 
when the cry of treason pealed like a knell amid the 
storrainess of debate, Schtiyler and the intrepid few pressed 
onward, true to the principles of human justice, till at 
leng.h the house was compelled, from very shame, to draw 
up a bill in which they condemned certain acts of the 
British Parliament '< as public grievances, and subversive 
of the rights of American-born British subjects." 

The bolt was shot, and New York fairly in the field. 
The country was in a state of intense excitement — resist- 
ance must be made, and what should be the resiilt was 
known only to the God of nations. But the leading m«»n 
of that time were definite in their ideas, and in their 
love for right and country. Linked as they might be by 
wealth and connection with the refinements of the old 
world, they still yielded loyal and loving service for the 
country of their birth. Familiar as harl been Philip 
.Schuyler with the best officers of the British crown, his 
family likewise being strongly attached to the government, 
two of his brothers holding offices in the British army, he 

16* 



186! PHILIP SCHUYLER. 

was still clear and determined in bis assertions of right. 
He was early elected a delegate to the continental Con- 
gress, which met in May, 1775, and hardly had he made 
his appearance there before he was appointed third major- 
general of the American army. 

He was immediately placed over the northern divi- 
sion of the army, which he hastened to reduce to order 
and military harmony, providing the munitions of war with 
a skill and celerity almost incredible, when we consider 
the impoverished state of the country, and which leads al 
Dnce to the inference that much was done from his own 
private resources. Indeed, later in the course of the war, 
Congress felt no hesitation in imposing duties upon him, 
which could only be so met; and it is well known thai a 
large amount of money vvas thus raised for the relief of the 
soldiery entirely upon his own responsibility. 

Repairing to Lake Champlain, Schuyler put Ticonderoga 
and Crown Point into a state of defence; and four regiments 
descended the lake, under the command of Montgomery, 
on the way to Canada. But the difficulties and hardships 
to which the necessities of the army reduced the com- 
mander were such that, at this moment of greatest need, 
he was taken down with a violent fever, which compelled 
him to a degree of inaction most irksome to his ardent 
temperament. Unwilling to abandon the field of labour, 
and hoping to surmount his illness, he caused himself to 
be carried in a batteau to the Isle Aux Noix, where he 
niight be promptly in aid of the army. But his illness 
was too severe to be thus summarily met, and he was 
obliged to be reconveyed to Ticonderoga, and to yield the 
Canada expedition entirely into the hands of his friend 
Montgomery. For two years did this able officer contend 
with the effects of this attack, reduced to a skeleton, and 
beset with difficulties the most annoying lo a soldier, from 
the bad condition of the army, mutinous, ill-supplied with 
arms and clothing, and often reduced to the greates* 



THANKS OF CONGRESS. l87 

Straits for lack of provisions. Yet he never forsook his 
post ; rallying, for a few days, he was abroad wherever 
most needed ; reduced again, he dictated orders from his 
camp-bed, and wrote letters that would fill volumes to the 
commander-in-chief, to Congress, and wherever good 
could be best done. 

Charged with the duty of supplying the army with re- 
cruits, provisions, clothing, arms, and money, he upon a 
bed of sickness — with unlimitted orders, yet an empty ex- 
chequer — surrounded by wants the most urgent, which he 
was unable to meet, he at length sought leave to retire, 
lest the public good should suffer through his disabilities. 
Congress became alarmed ; they could not lose so efficient 
a man. A vote of thanks for his services passed the 
House ; they expressed, through President Hancock, their 
" greatest concern and sympathy for his loss of health, and 
requested that he would not insist upon a measure which 
would deprive America of his zeal and abilities, and rob 
him of the honour of completing a glorious work, which 
he had so happily and successfully begun." General 
Washington expressed similar sentiments : " Do not think 
of a step so injurious to yourself and the country. You 
have not a difficulty to contend with, which I do not 
labour under in the highest degree." This is an affecting 
picture of the two men, in their friendly and manly corres- 
pondence, full of forebodings, yet bearing up against the 
pressure of the times ; yet Washington was in the vigour 
of health, and Schuyler worn by labour and suffering. 

Schuyler bore up, without hesitation, «' now that 
Montgomery was no more : he who had given so many 
proofs of the goodness of his heart, and who, as he greatly 
fell in his coiuitry''s cause, was more to be envied than la- 
mented.'''' Every month increased the arduousness of the 
duties imposed upon him. No man at the time was in- 
trusted with so much discretionary power. Congress issued 
>;ts intimations of service required, and left him to perforn; 



18S PHILIP SCHUYLER. 

It as bist he might. The army was in want of muskets 
ammunition, and cannon ; and the sohliers clamorous for 
pay. No wonder : their families were at home starving, 
while they, with naked feet and bare heads mounted the 
breastwork and presented their bosoms to the shots of the 
invader. They would fight and die ; but there was the 
wife, the mother, the helpless child, pining and dying for 
lack of succour. We write the history of our leaders to 
battle, and forget the sufferings of the great mass of beating 
hearts — the palpitating bone and muscle — who stood a 
wall of flesh for our defence. 

Schuyler responded to the call — he raised funds on his 
own account — lie did all that a human being could do in 
mitigation of this distress. Even Washington, from his 
camp at Cambridge, applied to Schuyler for arms. " Your 
letters and mine," said the great man, in allusion to the 
exigencies to which they were reduced, << seem echoes to 
each other, enumerating our mutual difficulties." Another 
office of delicacy and much difficulty devolved upon 
Schuyler at this time. He was ordered to disarm the 
tories of the Mohawk country, whose operations thwarted 
the interest of the American cause. These had been, many 
of them, his old friends and neighbours, whom the stress of 
the period had estranged from him : it needs but a thought 
to see how thankless must have been this necessary service. 

On the 17th of February, Lee was appointed to the 
command of the northern army, and Schuyler to that of 
New York — a change which Congress assured him was 
only made from their conviction that his health would not 
bear a northern campaign ; yet it was soon ascertained that 
the army in the north could not be sustained without his 
aid and co-operation, and his headquarters were appointed 
him in Albany, that he might superintend both depart- 
ments; but this want of efficient and energetic action 
upon the part of Congress, at length destroyed all hope of 
effecting the conquest of Canada. It was in vain that 
Schuyler, Montgomery, Arnold, Lee, Wooster and Thomas, 



COURT OF INQUIRY. 189 

each and all, urged the inadequacy of support ; in vain 
that the soldiers, harassed to no purpose, deseited ana 
rebelled, and that forty officers at one time sent in their 
resignations ; either Congress feared the power of a great 
northern army, or were unable to raise one ; and, after a 
series of mortifying disasters, a retreat was ordered, and 
the enterprise abandoned. 

In return for all this arduous service and lavishment 
of fortune in behalf of his country, Schuyler found himself 
the subject of public abuse, and openly charged with being 
the cause of the failure of our arms in Canada. Disgusted 
at this injustice, and with the treachery of persons who 
ifterwards failed not openly to oppose him, he again be- 
sought leave from Congress to retire from the army. Con- 
gress refused, and expressed the warmest approval of his 
conduct. He demanded an examination of his career, 
which was promptly granted, and a full and explicit award 
of the approbation of Congress and that of the commander- 
in-chief greeted him. Impelled by the warmest love for 
the service, and now restored to excellent health, nothing 
could exceed his vigilance and activity. Thwarted and 
opposed as he was by Gates and others under his command, 
he was still courteous and conciliatory. Being now the 
second major-general in the array, Lee only acting above 
him, his position was at once important and honourable, 
and called forth all the nobleness of his fine character. 

In the mean while the splendid army of Burgoyne was 
making its way into the state of New York. Ten thousand 
effective men were on the march by the way of Lake 
Champlain. Schuyler with his ill supplied army was 
at Fort Edward, and St. Clair at Ticonderoga. Unable 
to compete with the forces opposed to him, the latter, 
without waiting orders from his superior, felt himself 
obliged to abandon his position and seek refuge in Fort 
Edward, followed by the exultant foe. The inhabitants 
fled in dismay from their homes, and the story of the 
murder of Jane McCrea, by the allied Indians of the Bri 



190 PHILIP SCHUYLER. 

tish array, spread consternation upon every side. The 
eastern states were fdled with alarm, and the hero of Ben- 
nington once more took the field to defend the frontier of 
his native state. "Not a militiaman should fail to do 
service for his country at a crisis like this," cried the ex- 
asperated Schuyler, indignant at those who feared to come 
to the rescue. He made the warmest, the most urgent 
appeals; forced to retreat, the usages of war compelled him 
with bleeding heart to lay waste the country, that less might 
be left for the uses of the foe. << The earth was as a garden 
of Eden before them, and behind as a desolate wilderness." 
Bridges were destroyed, roads blocked and obstructed with 
timber ; the waving harvest flashed in the flame ; herds were 
driven away, and the people, appalled at the memory of 
the beautiful woman so cruelly sacrificed, followed in the 
wake of the camp as the only place of security. 

Vigorous as were the measures of Schuyler, they could 
not meet the exigencies of the occasion. He had urged 
the insufficiency of means for the defence of the northern 
fortifications. Ticonderoga, as we have seen, had been 
abandonedfor lack of resources, notwithstanding his appeals, 
by express, to General Washington, and to the governors 
of Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New York, and all his 
remonstrances at the insufficiency of the garrison for pur- 
poses of defence. He was on the march for the relief of these 
important posts, when he met the flying army of St. Clair. 

Retreating, yet full of intrepidity, Schuyler still cheered 
the hopes of his desponding army. He published procla- 
mations, he incited the inhabitants to defence, and by the 
most consummate attention to every part of his department, 
contrived to sustain his own manly heart. He writes to 
Washington, " If my country will support me with vigour 
and aexterity, and do not meanly despond, I shall be able 
to prevent the enemy from penetrating much farther." 

At the time of which we are now speaking, the whole 
strength of Schuyler did not exceed four thousand five 
hundred men. They were without suitable arms, without 



APPROACH OF BURGOYNE. 191 

Tarriors who for years, bordering upon a century, had been 
artillery; suffering, sickly, distressed, and daily wasted by 
desertions. This insufficient band was expected to resist 
the progress of an array flushed with success, six thousand 
strong, and superbly accoutred. The eastern troops were 
jealous of those of New York, they concurred scantily with 
military usages, and Schuyler was compelled to rely mostly 
upon the aid of his immediate state. Un disheartened by 
these obstacles his efforts were unceasing, and by the first 
of Auo-ust he was able to make some stand against the foe. 
As Burgoyne made his way down the Hudson, there were 
constant skirmishings at the outposts of the army as it 
s'.owly retreated in good order to the famous Saratoga. 

In the mean while the detachment of the British arioy, 
under St. Leger, had besieged Fort Stanwix, which was 
reduced to the last extremity, but still nobly held out, as 
knowing the tverrible fate which awaited them should they 
fall into the hands of the enemy and their ferocious Indian 
allies. The seat of war was now one of intense interest. 
Schuyler saw that the moment for decisive action was at 
hand, and nothing that human forethought could suggest 
to make it one of triumph was wanting on his part. Fort 
Stanwix was a subject of intense anxiety, and at this mo- 
ment, when it seemed needful to concentrate the forces to 
resist the approach of the main army of Burgoyne, Gene- 
ral Herkimer was sent to the relief of this fortress. On 
his way he was encountered by the detachment under 
Sir John Johnson, and defeated at the battle of Oriskany, 
a battle, which, for wild picturesque interest suggests the 
romance of border warfare in the highest degree.* Schuy- 
ler here encountered a commander who had often shared 
the hospitalities of his own household, and a race of rude 

• The best description of this battle, which we have ever se(»n, mny ins 
found in the pages of Greyslayer, a Legend of the Mohawk, from tbo pen 
of C. F. HofTman ; the vivid imagination of the novelist heinff r>rttcr 
adapted to <» stirring scene hke this, than the ordinarily dry details oi th« 
kifttorian. 



192 PHILIP SCHUYLER. 

treated as younger children by his family. Such are the 
urgencies of war! Schuyler, with the whole oi Bur- 
goyne's array bearing down upon him, needing every man 
at his post ready for the coming onset, was yet compelled 
to weaken his army further, by the despatch of men to the 
relief of Gansevoort, still holding out gallantly in the de- 
fence of Fort Stanwix. Arnold, with five hundred men, 
was sent to the rescue, and the despairing prisoners who 
for three weeks had repelled a murderous foe, hailed their 
approach with loud shouts. 

Thus was this little band saved from destruction, and 
the death of the stout Herkimer, who perished at Oriskany, 
in some degree avenged ; St. Leger, with his tories and 
Indian allies, held in abeyance, and Schuyler's troops al- 
lowed time to breathe before the great onset of Burgoyne. 
Then came the news of the battle of Bennington, and all 
was hope and exultation. Schuyler saw now nothing but 
victory. All was in readiness to meet the foe, and he, so 
often hindered, tried, and perplexed, was able to make a great 
stand for freedom, upon his own hearth-stone, as it were. 

At this moment Gates appeared in the camp, and Philip 
Schuyler was superseded in command by his former ene- 
my ; the same who had once before refused to serve under 
him at Ticonderoga, and who had spared nothing to achieve 
his downfall. From this time Gates has been called the 
hero of Saratoga — it has a sound of mockery. 

<< I am sensible of the indignity of being ordered from 
the command of the army, at a time when an engagement 
must soon take place ;" such was the calm remonstrance 
of this most injured great man, whose conduct on this oc- 
casion was worthy of Washington himself; and such as no 
man but Philip Schuyler, the true patriot, the brave and 
thoroughly upright man, could have evinced. So far from 
displaying the meanness of any kind of resentment, he 
generously offered to serve his country as a private gentle- 
man in any way in which he could be usefid. He stil. 
gaA'e the aid of his best counsel, and continued his corres* 



HIS DEATH. 



193 



pondence with Congress, which could ill do without his 
valuable aid in the various departments in which he had 
been employed. Subsequently, when his whole career 
had been subjected to the most rigid examination, and 
when his conduct had been fully approved, Washington 
and other friends urged him to resume the command of the 
northern department; but he resolutely refused — his pride 
had been too deeply wounded — he had encountered oblo- 
quy and injustice where applause should have followed his 
steps, and he had too much self-respect to hazard the trial. 

But his public services did not end here. After the 
necessary attention to his own estates, " which had greatly 
suffered by the barbarous ravages of the British army," 
he was zealous in promoting the adoption of the Con- 
stitution of the United States, and was elected to the first 
Senate, under the new order of things. He foresaw the 
marvellous prosperity of his native state, and was foremost 
in the great movement in behalf of internal improvements. 
In the plan which he sketched for furthering the navigation 
of the Mohawk may be traced the germ of the Erie Canal, 
which, splendid as it is, is destined to dwindle into insig- 
nificance before the gigantic plans now in progress of de 
velopment. 

The last years of Schuyler were distinguished with the 
elegant dignity of an American gentleman. Full of years, 
beloved, and respected, the statesman, the patriot, and the 
Christian moved calmly to the " dread bou'.ie." On the 
death of Washington, his long-tried friend and brother in 
arms, he dressed in deep mourning. His four last years 
were a period of grief and bereavement, which loosened 
the grasp of the good man upon life. His wife, most 
tenderly beloved, was taken away ; his daughter, Mrs. 
Van Rensselaer, died ; and his noble son-in-law, the great 
Hamilton, perished by the hand of Burr. His cup of bit- 
terness was at the brim — he died, November 18th, 1804. 
aged seventy-one. 

Vol. I. 17 N 



MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN SULLIVAN. 

John Sullivan was born in Berwick, in the province of 
Maine, on the 17th of February, 1740. His father emi- 
grated from L'eland in 1723, and died at the great age of 
one hundred and four years, after seeing his sons, the sub- 
ject of this sketch and Governor James SulHvan of Mas- 
sachusetts, occupy the most elevated positions in a new 
empire which they had helped to rear up about him. He 
was a farmer in moderate circumstances, and his sons 
laboured with him in the field during the greater portion 
of their minority. The schools of the period afforded few 
advantages for high or various cultivation, but he was well 
versed in the ancient languages, in history, and in other 
branches, and attended himself to their education. 

Mr. Sullivan studied the law, was admitted to the bar, 
and established himself at Durham, in New Hampshire, 
where he acquired an extensive practice. His attention 
was soon, however, diverted from his profession to the ga- 
thering storm of the Revolution, and the stand he took ir 
defence of popular rights in 1772, led to his being com- 
missioned as a major of the militia. From this time he was 
actively engaged in the public service. In September, 
1774, he took his seat in the Continental Congress, and in 
December, of the same year, he was engaged with Johr 
Langdon in the first act of forcibi'a opposition to the royal 
authority. General Gage, anticipating the approach of 
hostilities, began in every direction to seize upon such 
military stores as were not in the safe possession of the 
king's troops, fulfilling thus the fears of the timid and the 
hopes of those who saw no possibility of a reconciliation. 
Fort William and Mary, near Portsmouth, contained a con- 
10^ 



APPOINTED A BRIGADIER-GENERAL. 195 

siderable supply of arms and ammunition, and was garri- 
soned by but five men. A force was secretly organized, 
under Sullivan and Langdon, to seize upon this before the 
arrival of an expected reinforcement from Boston ; and the 
plan was executed with perfect success, so that the soldiers 
were imprisoned and one hundred barrels of powder, six- 
teen cannon, a large supply of small arms and other stores, 
were removed to places of safety before the ships with the 
troops entered the harbor. Governor Wentworth denounced 
the act as one of treason, and Langdon was advised by a 
member of the council that '< his head would be made a 
button for a rope" if he did not leave the province ; but 
the king's power had already ceased to be a terror : the 
governor himself was soon to become a fugitive. The 
spoils of the adventure were turned to a good account a 
few months afterwards at Banker Hill, and Sullivan and 
Langdon took their seats in the following May in the second 
Congress, at Philadelphia. 

On the 22d of June, 1775, Sullivan was appointed a 
brigadier-general, and rei^igning his seat in the legislative 
body, he proceeded immediately to join the commander- 
in-chief at Cambridge. There he was actively employed 
in disciplining the forces and obtaining supplies. On the 
5th of August he addressed a letter to the committee of safety 
in New Hampshire, advising them that the army, in the 
immediate presence of the enemy, had not enough powder 
to fiirnish each man half a pound. On ascertaining this 
fact, he says that Washington <' was so struck that he did 
not utter a word for half an hour." Every one was equally 
surprised. Messengers were despatched to all the south- 
ern colonies to draw on their public stores, and he entreats 
the committee to forget all colony distinctions, to consider 
the continental army devoted to destruction, unless imme- 
diately supplied, and to send at least twenty barrels with 
all possible speed. " Should this matter take air before a 
supply arrives," he says, " our army is ruined. You w:ll 



196 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

need no words from me to induce an immeaiate compliance 
with this request : you can have no necessity for the pow- 
der in the country ; there is not the most distant probability 
or even possibility of an attack upon you." 

The army was inactive during the winter, and m the 
spring General Sullivan was ordered to Canada, and 
arrived early in June at the mouth of the Sorel, where he 
met the survivors of the expeditions of Montgomery and 
Arnold, under General Thompson, and assumed the com 
mand. He entertained an opinion for a short time, that 
he should be able to maintain a position in Canada, but 
the affair of Three Rivers soon dispelled the illusion, and 
he continued to lead his dispirited and sickly troops south- 
ward, until he reached the Isle La Motte, where he received 
the orders of General Schuyler to proceed to Crown Point. 
Here he was superseded by General Gates, who upon 
calling a council of war determined to retire to Fort Ticon- 
deroga. Olfended that a junior officer should be promoted 
over him, Sullivan left the army and proceeded to Philadel- 
phia with a view to the resignation of his commission. 
He bore with him an address signed by Hazen, Poor, 
Stark, St. Clair, and Wayne, the field officers who had 
served under him, in which they expressed a very high 
opinion of his personal character and of the ability with 
which, '< upon the late trying occasion, he had comforted, 
supported, and protected the shattered remains of a debi- 
litated army." After some conversation with the presi- 
dent of Congress, in regard to the cause of the appoint- 
ment of Gates, he concluded to retain his commission. 
Upon the subject of Sullivan's fitness for the chief command, 
Washington about the same time transmitted a private 
letter to the president of Congress, in which he says, <'I 
think it my duty to observe that be is active, spirited, and 
zealously attached to the cause. That he does not want 
abilities, many members of Congress can testify ; but he 
has his wants, and he has his foibles. The latter are 



TAKEN PRISONER. 



197 



manifested in his little tincture of vanity, and iri an over- 
desire oi being popular, which now and then lead hiin into 
embarrassments. His wants are common to us all. He 
wants experience to move upon a large scale ; for the 
limited and contracted knowledge which any of us have 
in military matters stands in very little stead, and is greatly 
overbalanced by sound judgment, and some acquaintance 
with men and books, especially when accomjjanied by an 
enterprising genius, which I must do General Sullivan the 
justice to say I think he possesses." 

Sullivan now joined the army under Washington, and 
on the 9th of August was created a major-general. At 
this time the British force on Staten Island amounted to 
twenty-four thousand men, and it was expected that it 
would immediately attack New York. The Americans, 
far inferior in numbers and aj)})ointments, were chiefly on 
New York island, but a portion of them were in the op- 
posite town of Brooklyn, where extensive works had been 
erected under the supervision of General Greene, who 
about the middle of the month was compelled by severe 
indisposition to relinquish the command, and w-as succeeded 
by Sullivan. On the 22d, ten thousand of the enemy 
landed on Long Island, to dislodge the Americans. Putnam 
had assumed the command, and had under him, besides 
Sullivan, Lord Stirling. On the night of the 25th, it was 
ascertained that the British under General Grant were ap- 
proaching along the road nearest the bay, and Stiiliii^' 
was despatched to oppose them with two regiments. Sul- 
livan meantime marched down the road farther inland to 
Flatbush, and before daylight was surprised to find that 
General Clinton with the British right wing had gained 
his rear by a pass which was to have been guarded by the 
Long Island militia, stationed at Jamaica. With the 
English troops between him and the main body of the 
Americans, and before him a large force of Hessians under 
De Heister, he quickly perceived that his situation "wa? 
17* 



198 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

nopeless, unless on one side or the other he could cut his 
way by a desperate effort ; but after swaying an hour or 
more between the two divisions of the enemy, he was 
compelled to surrender, though a small portion of his 
regiment, with determined energy, forced a passage 
through the British ranks and regained the centre at 
Brooklyn. Stirling also, after a warm conflict, was made 
a prisoner. Washington went over from New York on the 
29th, to learn the full extent of the disaster ; and in the 
night, while the British were so near that the cries of the 
sentinels were heard distinctly within the American lines, 
succeeded, under cover of the darkness, in withdrawing 
the remainder of the troops across East River into New York. 
Our loss in this engagement, in killed, wounded, and pri- 
soners, was more than one thousand, and the entire army 
on Long Island would have been conquered if the British 
had attempted on the 28th to follow up their victory, or if 
the retreat of the following night had been attempted by a 
less able leader or under less providential circumstances. 
Sullivan did not long remain a prisoner. Lord Howe, the 
British commander-in-chief, ever sincerely desirous of a 
peace, sent him on parole with a hopeless message to 
Congress, and in a short time after he was exchanged for 
General Prescott. 

By the middle of October, it became necessary for the 
Americans to abandon New York, and the army, in four 
divisions, under Generals Lee, Sullivan, Heath, and Lin- 
coln, retreated toward the upper part of the island, and 
after the capture of Fort Washington and the abandon- 
ment of Fort Lee, was driven across New Jersey, and 
hovered in the vicinity of Philadelphia, in anticipation of 
an attack upon that city. In the actions of Trenton and 
Princeton, so glorious in themselves and in their conse- 
quences, and indeed through all the winter, Sullivan was 
actively and honourably, though not conspicuously en 
gaged. 



ATTACK ON STATEN ISLAND. 199 

The intentions of the British commander-in-chief, thu 
following season, were shrouded in mystery, but all his. 
movements were closely watched by Washington, whose 
troops were kept on the alert to meet the promise of every 
new sign given by the enemy. Sullivan and Stirling weie 
at one time despatched to Peekskill, on the Hudson ; but 
the entrance of the British fleet into the Chesapeake, about 
tlie middle of August, occasioned their recall, and the 
American army was concentrated at Germantown, with 
the exception of Sullivan's division, which was stationed 
at Hanover in New Jersey. It was while he was here that 
Sullivan set on foot his expedition against Staten Island, 
where the British general had left a sufficient number of 
regulars and provincials, to vex and despoil the people of 
East Jersey, Long Island, and the highlands of the Hud- 
son. On the 21st of August, with a thousand picked men 
from the regiments of Smallwood and Deborre, he marched 
to Elizabethtown, where he was joined by the regiment? 
of Dayton and Ogden, and several companies of militia. 
The Tories were the objects of attack ; the troops, in two 
parties, reached the island before daybreak, on the 22d, 
without being discovered ; Colonel Ogden succeeded in 
making prisoners of the greater portion of Colonel Law- 
rence's detachment of one hundred and fifty provincials, 
near the Old Blazing Star Ferry ; Sullivan, with Deborre, 
assailed another party, but was less fortunate, making only 
about forty prisoners ; and Smallwood, who had charge of 
a third attack, took but two or three. Sullivan, Small- 
wood, and Deborre, proceeded with their captives towards 
the Old Blazing Star to join Ogden, of whom they had 
heard nothing since their separation on the Jersey shore ; 
but he had already disembarked with his prisoners when 
they arrived; and Sullivan's boats, w'hich he had ordered 
to meet him there, were not in sight ; and before he could 
quit the island with all his men, his rear-guard was cap- 
tared by General Campbell, who had started at the first 



200 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

alarm and pressed him closely in his retreat. The num- 
ber of British prisoners secured was about one hundred 
and fifty, and General Sullivan reported his loss at thir- 
teen killed and thirty-six prisoners ; but the American loss 
was by others thought to be much larger. 

The following letter, which has not before been pub- 
lished, was soon after addressed to Colonel Warren, by 
Major John Taylor : it gives an account of the expedition, 
and furnishes a key to that dissatisfaction with the con- 
duct of Sullivan which resulted in an investigation by a 
court of inquiry : 

" Hanover, Aug. 24, 1777. 

'< Dear Colonel, — I am this moment returned from 
an expedition to Staten Island, the issue of which has 
been rather unfortunate. On Thursday last we marched 
from Hanover, at four o'clock p. m., and coniinued our 
march, with little or no intermission, to Walstead's Point, 
where we arrived at three o'clock in the morning, having 
marched twenty-two miles. We immediately began to 
cross the Sound, but there being only five boats, we did 
not all get over till near simrise. Colonel Ogden had 
crossed at the Old Blazing Star, with about five hundred 
men, the same morning. His men, and the separated 
brigades of our division, attacked three different parts of the 
enemy before six. Each attack proved successful. Colo- 
nel Ogden, who had got over by daybreak, completely sur- 
prised the enemy, killed a few, and made one hundred 
prisoners. Deborre's brigade, which Sullivan commanded 
in person, killed about five, and made near thirty prison- 
ers. General Stnallwood had very little fortune in getting 
prisoners, — the enemy having received intelligence of his 
coming early enough to scramble off. Thus matters stood 
at nine o'clock, when our two brigades joined again, and 
marched off to the Old Blazing Star, to recross, where 
Ogden and his party had crossed and returned. The 
main body of the enemy was then discovered to be lurk- 



MAJOR Taylor's letter. 201 

ing on our flanks ; but evidently with no intention of 
coming to action. We marched on to the Old Blazing 
Star, and began to cross, but before we had got all our 
men over, the enemy came up and attacked our rear, of 
about one hundred and fifty, who were on that side. Our 
people behaved bravely, and several times drove the ene- 
my from the charge ; but all their ammunition being gone, 
they dispersed; some swam the river, and the rest were 
taken. We lost but very few men except the prisoners, 
but the enemy must have had at least one hundred killed 
and wounded. Among the prisoners, were Colonel An- 
till. Major Woodson, Major Stewart, Major Hilliard, and 
Duffy. Captain Herron, Lieutenant Campbell, Lieuten- 
ant Anderson, and Ensign Lee, were not mentioned with 
a flag which they sent out, proposing an exchange. I 
conjecture they are killed. Colonel Anlill was not with 
the list of those who wished to be exchanged, and the 
officers said he did not choose to return. The misfortunes 
which attended the expedition were numerous and ruin- 
ous. I will, if possible, enumerate them. It was unfor- 
tunate that the march, of near thirty miles, before we be- 
gan the attack, should fatigue our men; it was unfortunate 
that instead of returning by the way we crossed, which 
was short, we should march ten miles farther, to the Star, 
which made the number of miles from our camp, with 
our manoeuvres on the island, at least forty ; it was very 
unfortunate that we continued to march without halting, 
by which means we had a rear of six miles ; it was un- 
fortunate that we observed no order in our retreat — that 
every soldier should be allowed to plunder and get strag- 
gled all over the island ; it was unfortunate that we did 
not attack the main body of the enemy, who evidently 
acknowledged our superiority by avoiding us, and as evi- 
dently discovered their intention of attacking our rear, by 
hovering on our flanks ; it was very unfortunate that only 
«»bout thirty light infantry of our regiment composed the 



202 



JOHN SULLIVAN. 



rear, by which means, all the officers of Herron's compaii} 
were lost, and the rest, knowing their situation, and hav- 
ing no wagons, could not bring off the sick ; it was un- 
fortunate that orders were sent to the upper ferry, to have 
the boats brought down by two private soldiers, which 
coming through an improper channel, were disobeyed ; it 
was very unfortunate that no officers were appointed to 
superintend the embarkation and disembarkation of our 
troops in the four boats which Ogden had, by which 
means, as much time was lost in the delay on the other 
side as would have secured a safe passage : for that which 
was every man's business was attended to by none ; it 
was unfortunate that many plundered horses were brought 
over, which produced much delay ; it was very unfortu- 
nate we had no cannon, and that we marched down into 
the marsh opposite the enemy, where two of our men had 
their brains knocked out with their field-pieces ; it was 
very unfortunate that we had nothing to eat for near forty- 
hree hours, and were marching most of the time, which 
did such injury to the troops, that at one time, yesterday, 
Deborre's brigade could not muster above forty men. My 
arithmetic will not serve for the whole enumeration : I 
will therefore halt here. By the enemy's return, they 
have a hundred and thirty prisoners of ours ; but you may 
be assured we shall not get off under two hundred. Seve- 
ral field-officers and commanders fell into our hands, and 
the general talks of an exchange. 

<' Figure to yourself the situation we are in, then hear 
that we are to march in two or three days to the south- 
ward, and wish, but do not hope, to see many of us come 
forward. I wish, my dear colonel, you could join us ; 
your presence is absolutely necessary to reclaim that order 
which we have been gradually losing ever since you left 
us. I am so much fatigued that I am wholly unable to 
write to Mr. Penn ; I should therefore be obliged to you 
to show him this letter ; and tell him further, that if C«.«- 



COLONEL OGDEN's LETTER. 203 

gress do not make an inquiry into this affair, they will 
not do their duty to their constituents. I am, dear sir, 
<' Your most humble servant, 

" John Taylor." 

Tliis letter was regarded by Sullivan and his friends as 
an ebullition of personal enmity. The court of inquiry, 
which was held immediately after the battle of Brandy wine, 
honourably acquitted him, and was unanimously of opinion 
that the expedition was feasible and promised considerable 
advantages ; that it was well planned ; and that it would 
have been perfectly successful but for some accidents 
which were beyond both the power and the foresight of 
the commanding general. Another original letter, ad- 
dressed to Sullivan by Colonel Ogden, will serve as an 
antidote to Major Taylor's : 

<' Dear Sir, — As you are, in my opinion, very unjustly 
censured for your conduct respecting the Staten Island 
expedition, I cannot, in justice to you, or the public ser 
vice, omit presenting you with my narrative of the affair, 
which, if you please, you may make public. I do not 
mean to call in question the proceedings of the honourable 
Congress ; I doubt not they have been imposed on by 
misrepresentations of facts ; otherwise they would not 
have ordered a court of inquiry. I am certain it is not 
their intention to injure the character of an officer for be- 
ing successful. The plan ordered by you, after consult- 
ing those gentlemen in whom you could confide, who 
were best acquainted with the island, and the situation of 
the enemy, was this — That Generals Smallwood and De- 
borre should cross at Halstead's Point, the former to at- 
tack Buskirk, at the Dutch church, and the latter Barton, 
at the New Blazing Star. I was to cross at the old Blaz- 
ing Star, with the first and third Jersey regiments, and a 
part of the militia, and attack the regiments of Lawrence, « 
Daugan, and Atien, which, if I found an even match, I 



201 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

was to taki post on advantageous ground, and wait until 
I was supported by a regiment from General Deborre, 
which regiment, in case I drove the enemy, was to head 
them and pick up stragglers. One regiment from Gene- 
ral Smallwood was to be left for the same purpose at the 
cross-road above, and to take up those that should escape 
General Deborre, after which the whole division was to 
join and march to where I had crossed, and where you 
were to re-cross. This plan appeared to me well con- 
cocted, and perfectly consistent. The officers on my 
part performed every duty required or expected. They 
routed the enemy, and made many of them prisoners, 
with very little loss. How far the officers of your division 
executed their part, I cannot pretend to say. Though 
this I am certain of, that the loss of most of the men 
was owing to the carelessness of the officers commanding 
platoons, in suffering their men to fall out of their places. 
Those that were lost with the rear-guard sold themselves 
dear, and their being exposed was unavoidable. 

" I am, sir, with respect and esteem, 
" Your humble servant, 
<' M. Ogden." 

When the report of the court of inquiry was presented 
to Congress, it was resolved by that body that the re- 
sult, so honourable to the character of General Sullivan, 
was highly pleasing to that body, and that the opinion of 
the court should be published, in justification of that offi- 
cer's character. 

General Sullivan arrived in the vicinity of Philadelphia 
about the first of September. Sir William Howe had al- 
ready landed, at the head of the Elk, in Maryland, with 
eighteen thousand men, and though the American array 
was very inferior, in numbers, appointments, and condi- 
tion, Washington determined to hazard a battle. He at 
first placed himself in the enemy's path, below Wilming- 
ton, bu' after some si^irmishing between Maxwell's corp% 



BATTLE OF BRANDY WINE 



205 



and tke British light troops, it became apparent that th*- 
British general's design was to turn his right and cut ofl 
his communication with Philadelphia, and he then with- 
drew from his position, and crossing to the left of the 
Brandywine, on the evening of the 9th, established his 
rentre at Chad's Ford, twenty-five miles from the city. 
At Pyles's Ford, a mile and a half below, was the left 
wing ; two miles above, near Brinton's Ford, with lighi 
troops and videttes extending a considerable distance fur- 
ther, was the right, under Sullivan ; and Greene was sta- 
tioned in the rear of the centre with a reserve. At day- 
break, on the morning of the 11th, Generals Knyphausen 
and Grant began their advance from the British head-quar- 
ters at Kennett Square, General Maxwell retiring before 
them, till about ten o'clock, when they reached the high- 
ground on the right bank of the Brandywine, opposite and 
in full view of the American centre, upon which, without 
attempting to cross, they began a cannonade. Sullivan, 
meantime, had been directed to guard the stream as far 
up as Buffenton's Ford, and he confined his attention to 
that and the points below, not knowing that there were 
any accessible fords above. Soon after eleven o'clock, 
however, he received a message from Colonel Ross, ad- 
vising him that a large body of the enemy, supposed to 
be immediately under the command of Sir William Howe, 
was crossing still higher up with a park of artillery. This 
information turned out to be correct. The main body of 
the British army, guided by the infamous Tory, Joseph 
Galloway, who was intimately acquainted both with the 
topography of the country, and the almost universal disaf- 
fection of the people, had with extraordinary secrecy at 
an early hour defiled to the left, and proceeded to fords, 
the existence of which was unknown to the American 
general, which it was now passing. Sullivan sent the in- 
formation down to Washington, who directed him to at- 
tack immediately the approaching foe : but while he was 
Vol. I. 18 



206 



JOHN SULLIVAN. 



p.*epanng to do so, difTerent information, whicli seemnd 
perfenily reliable, was received from the point where the 
British were reported to have been seen, and Washington 
hastened to countermand the order. Thus the army re- 
mained for several hours, the centre only engaged, oppos- 
ing the assault of Knyphausen, and in perfect ignorance 
of the chief movement of the enemy. It was near two 
o'clock before it was finally well understood that Howe 
and Cornwallis had succeeded in crossing at Jelfrey's 
Ford and were in full march upon the American right. 
A change of disjiosilion was instantly made, and Sulli- 
van's division was in the act of forming, on high ground 
near Birmingham meeting-house, when it was attacked 
by Cornwallis. ])i'l)()rre's brigade quickly gave way, and 
was thrown into confusion. Sullivan vainly endeavoured 
to rally it, and then allempted with his artillery to sustain 
those who kej)t their ground ; but after maintaining the 
action with great s])iril and bravery for an hour and a half 
he was compelled to retreat. Cieneral Wayne, meantime, 
had been driven back from Chad's Ford by the superior 
numbers of Knyphausen, who advanced to force the ])as- 
sage as soon as he heard of the successful movement of 
the British upon the American right wing ; Greene brought 
nito the battle his reserve, to cover the retreat of Sullivan, 
and the scattered (orccs of the right and centre,, sustained 
the engagement with activity until night, when they retired 
without molestation, with their ar;illery and baggage. 
In the battle of Brandywine were Washington, Wayne, 
Greene, Sidlivan, Lafayette, Stirling, Hamilton, and otliers 
of distinction, and General Heath well observes, that 
« there was no contest during the war in which the v r.ole 
army appears to have been so entirely engaged." They 
were attacked at a moment in which no army can offer 
successful resistance; and the British were too fatigued to 
follow up tneir success. After leaving the meeting-house, 
tJiere is no ground or space for a battle : the road is oaf' 



BATTLE OF GERM ANT OWN 207 

row, the country hilly, and even now coveri'd with woods 
A fight could only take place by detachments, and it was 
probably in this way that this was waged, which will ac- 
count for the small number killed and wounded, and for 
the slight effect the defeat had on the spirits of the offi- 
cers and men. They collected at Chester during the 
night, marched to Philadelphia the next day, and began 
soon after a series of fresh attacks upon the enemy. The 
armies met again on the Lancaster road, and a contest was 
commenced, when a sudden and a heavy fail of rain com- 
pelled the Americans to retire. On the 19th Washington 
prepared to dispute the passage of the Schuylkill, but 
the British general by a sudden movement crossed with- 
out opposition at a lower point, and gaining his rear, en- 
tered Philadelphia and Germantown on the 26th of Sep- 
tember. The misfortunes at lirandywine were popularly 
charged upon Sullivan, and his conduct before and during 
the battle was investigated by order of Congr(!Ss, but he 
was honourably acquitted by a court of inquiry. Wash- 
ington declared that his whole conduct, so far as he could 
judge of it, was " S})irited and active," and Lafayette 
wrote that " such courage as he showed that day will 
always deserve the praises of every one." 

Washington in a few days took post at Skippack's 
Creek, about fourteen miles from Germantown, and on 
the evening of the third of October put his troojjs in mo- 
tion with the design of surprising the main body of the 
enemy at that ])lace. Sidlivan and Wayne, the next 
morning, just after daybreak, leading the princ.i})al attack, 
completely sur})rised the enemy, and soon drove thein 
more than a mile from the scene of their first encounter. 
V^ictory seemed to be certain, when, in the dense fog 
which prevailed, some mistakes occurred, a degree of 
confusion ensued, the course of success was checked, 
and the Americans retreated from the ficdd. This import- 
ant battle has been particularly described in previous 



20b 



JOHN SULLIVAN, 



parts of the present work,* and it is here necessary only 
to o})serve that General Sullivan distinguished himself by 
the utmost intrepidity and bravery. The commander-in- 
chief remarked in his official account of the action : " In 
justice to General Sullivan and the whole right wing of 
the army, whose conduct I had an opportunity of observ- 
ing, as they acted immediately under my eye, I have the 
pleasure to inform you that both officers and men be- 
haved with a degree of gallantry that did them the high- 
est honour." 

After the army went into winter quarters at Valley 
Forge, General Sullivan for a time entertained an inten- 
tion of resigning. He had laboured assiduously for the 
good of the country in every situation in which he had 
been placed, and had been the object of more than a 
common share of ungenerous attack ; while his private 
affairs, from long neglect, were in a most unfortunate con- 
dition. Writing to Washington in the early part of 1778, 
for a short leave of absence, he says : " It would be te- 
dious for me to mention my necessities in full. Let it 
suffice to say that I have exhausted my store of cash at 
home. I prohibited my clerk from calling in the money 
I had out on interest when the war began, as I knew the 
people would be sufficiently distressed without paying 
debts. My pay in the army has by no means made up 
for my losses and expenses. I need not remind your Ex- 
cellency how far sixteen eightpences will fall short of 
maintaining my family, or remind you of my having been 
four times robbed by the British troops, viz : at New 
York, Long Island, New Rochelle, and Peekskill. This 
has reduced me so far that I have not clothes sufficient 
for another campaign, nor will ray pay enable me to pur- 
chase. My own private fortune must make up my losses, 
and enable me in future to keep the field. This caniio< 



• See article Washington, i. 41. 



ABKlVAL OF d'eSTAING. 209 

be done while I remain here." At the request of the 
CO nmander-in-chief, however, Sullivan consented to re- 
main, and early in the following month he was appointeu 
to the important separate command of the forces in Rhode 
Island. 

The British at this time had six thousand men at New- 
port, well protected by various fortifications, and Gene- 
ral Sullivan took up his head-quarters at Providence, with 
a very inferior force. The hopes of the Americans had 
been excited by intelligence of the alliance with France, 
and in July they were cheered with news of the arrival 
of Count d'Estaing with twelve ships of the line and 
twelve frigates, before the capes of the Delaware. Wash- 
ington immediately entered into communication with the 
French admiral, and on the 17th of July, wrote to Gene- 
ral Sullivan to augment his force to five thousand men, if 
it were possible, from the New England states, and on 
the 22d, despatched Lafayette and Greene with two bri- 
gades to his assistance ; while D'Estaing set sail for the 
waters near Newport, where he arrived on the 29th, and 
received Sullivan to a personal conference on board his 
ship, where a plan of operations was concerted. The 
French troops, four thousand, were to land on the western 
side of the island, and the Americans, at the same time, 
approaching by way of Tiverton, were to land on the 
opposite side, under cover of the guns of a frigate. A 
portion of the reinforcements despatched by the com- 
mander-in-chief not arriving as soon as they were ex- 
pected, some delay occurred, but it was finally deter- 
mined that the attack should take place on the 10th of 
August ; and on the 8th the French fleet passed up the 
i'.hannel without injury from the enemy's batteries, and 
the British commander withdrew his forces within their 
lines, in anticipation of the descent of the two armies 
upon the town. But when every thing was ready, and 
Diomised success, the British fleet under Lord Howe was 
18* O 



210 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

seen approaching the harbour, and the French admiral, 
paying no attention to the arrangements into whicli he 
had entered, put to sea. The disappointment and vexa- 
tion caused by this unlooked-for proceeding were propor- 
tioned to the sanguine excitement with which they had 
looked for an engagement. General Sullivan, however, 
soon decided to undertake the siege of Newport with 
his independent army, which was now increased by the 
arrival of militia to ten thousand men ; and orders were 
issued for the march of his forces on the morning of the 
12th. But his plans were again prevented : on the night 
of the 11th a violent storm arose, which continued with 
unabated fiiry for three days, during which the troops 
were nearly all constantly exposed to the rain and wind, 
their health so impaired that a considerable number of 
them died, and their ammunition rendered useless. On 
the 15th, the sky became clear, and General Sullivan 
with his exhausted army took position within two miles of 
Newport, and opened a cannonade upon the fortifications, 
which were found, however, to be too strong to be car- 
ried without the aid of the fleet. 

Meanwhile both the French and British fleets had suf- 
fered severely in the storm, and were compelled to return 
to port. The ships of D'Estaing were seen off Newport 
on the 19th, and hopes of united action and success were 
again entertained. Generals Greene and Lafayette went 
on board the ship of the French admiral, and exhausted 
their powers of persuasion in the vain effort to induce 
him to aid in this critical moment : he declared that in 
case of disaster his instructions were to proceed to Boston 
for repairs, and announced to Sullivan, in a letter, his 
intention immediately to do so. The whole American 
army was ndignant, and all the principal officers, excej t 
Lafayette, signed a protest against his departure, as « de- 
rogatory to the honour of France, contrary to the inten- 
tions of his Most Christian Majesty, and to the interests 



REIREAT FROM NEWPORT. 211 

of his nation, destructive in the highest degree to the wel- 
fare of the United States, and highly injurious to the alli- 
ance formed between the two countries." This protest 
was ill-advised, and increased the unfortunate alienation 
between the Americans and their allies, which was not 
allayed until the subject received the attention of Wash- 
ington, whose wise discretion alone was sufficient to restore 
amicable relations, and to soothe the excited feelings of 
the admiral and his officers. Upon the second with- 
drawal of the French fleet, the volunteers, whose continu- 
ance in the camp was dependent entirely upon their own 
pleasure, began to go away in masses, and in a few days 
General Sullivan had about him less than seven thou- 
sand men, not one fourth of whom had ever been in ac- 
tion ; and as an attack upon the intrenchments of the 
enemy, defended by an equal number of experienced 
troops, was now out of the question, it was determined to 
relinquish the enterprise, and remove to a point on the 
northern part of the island, whence the main land might 
be reached with ease and safety. The retreat commenced 
on the night of the 28th, the rear of the army being covered 
by light parties under Colonels Laurens and Livingston ; 
and early the next morning Sir Robert Pigot, the British 
commander, started in pursuit, and soon attacked the rear 
guard, who maintained their ground gallantly until ordered 
to fall back upon the main body, who had reached the 
works at Tiverton. General Pigot then attacked the 
American left, under General Glover, by whom he was 
repulsed, upon which he took up a position about a mile 
from the Hues, on Quaker Hill, and at nine o'clock 
opened a cannonade. The Americans were now drawn 
up in three columns, the first in front of the works on 
Butt's Hill, the second in the rear of the hill, and the 
third about half a mile distant from the first, with a re- 
doubt in front, a little to the right, and strong defences 
in the rear. While the firing was kept up between the 



212 JOHN SULLIVAN. 

opposing lines, :\vo British ships of war and several 
smaller vessels gained a station opposite the American 
right, but their guns were quickly silenced by batteries 
erected on the beach. At two o'clock General Pigot 
advanced and made a general attack, but was driven back 
after a short conflict, and the two armies confined them- 
selves for the remainder of that and the following day to 
a desultory cannonade ; and on the night of the 30th, 
General Sullivan, having heard of the approach of Sir 
Henry Clinton with reinforcements from New York, sue- 
ceeded in making a masterly retreat to the main land, 
without loss or even discovery, and thus undoubtedly 
saved his entire army from capture. 

The conduct of General Sullivan throughout this expe- 
dition into Rhode Island was warmly approved by the 
wisest men of the country. "If lam a judge," remarked 
General Greene, in a letter* to a gentleman who had com- 
plained of it, " the expedition has been prudently and 
well conducted ; and I am confident there is not a general 
officer, from the commander-in-chief to the youngest in 
the field, who would have gone greater lengths to have 
given success to it, than General Sullivan. He is sensi- 
ble, active, ambitious, brave, and persevering in his tem- 
per ; and the object was sufficiently important to make 
him despise every difficulty opposed to his success, as 
far as he was at liberty to consult his reputation ; but the 
public good is of more importance than personal glory, 
and the one is not to be gratified at the risk and expense 
of the other." On the 17th of September the thanks of 
Congress were voted to General Sullivan and the officers 
and soldiers under his command for their conduct in the 
action of the 29th of August, and the retreat of the next- 
night was highly approved. The legislatures of New 
Hampshire and Rhode Island also expressed in an appro- 

* Johnson's Life of Greene, vol. i. p. 198. 



EXPEDITION AGAINST THE IROQUOIS. 213 

priate manner their sense of General Sullivan's zeal, dis 
cretion, and good conduct in the campaign. 

General Sullivan remained in command in Rhode 
Island until the spring of 1779, but there were in this 
period no further military movements of importance ; and 
in the summer of this year he was selected by General 
Washington to lead an army against the great Indian 
confederacy of the Iroquois, consisting of the Mohawks, 
Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas, and Tusca- 
roras, whose terrible and continued outrages upon the 
north-western frontier, instigated and encouraged by the 
British, it was found necessary to punish with the most 
exemplary severity. The country inhabited by the Iro- 
quois comprised northern Pennsylvania and western New 
York, one of the richest and most beautiful regions of the 
Union. Accompanied by the brigades of Maxwell, Poor, 
and Hand, Proctor's artillery, and a corps of riflemen, 
General Sullivan proceeded on the 31st of June, along 
the Susquehannah towards Wyoming, and on the 11th of 
July reached the confluence of that river with the Tioga, 
near which a fortress was erected and named Fort Sulli- 
van, where he awaited the arrival of General Clinton, who 
was approaching with sixteen hundred men from Sche- 
nectady, by the Mohawk and the southern tier of lakes. 
General Clinton reached the camp with his brigade on 
the 22d of August ; on the 28th the army, now consisting 
of about five thousand men, began its march, and on the 
third day after came near Newtown, (now Elmira,) where 
the celebrated chieftain Brant, or Thayendanegea, with 
Sir John Johnson, Captain Butler, and Captain Middleton, 
were stationed with a force of Indians, and British regu- 
lars and rangers, variously estimated at from eight to fif- 
teen hundred, whom they routed with considerable loss. 
They proceeded with little further opposition, between 
the Cayuga and Seneca lakes, by Geneva and Canan- 
daigua, and as fai west as the Genesee river, destroying 



214 



JOHN SULLIVAN. 



numerous villages, fields of corn, orchards of fruit trees, 
and all descriptions of cattle, until the country was en- 
tirely laid waste, and the Indians were driven, utterly dis- 
heartened, to seek shelter and subsistence at the British 
fortress of Niagara, where more died of disease than had 
perished by the sword. Upon the termination of this ex- 
pedition General Sullivan desired perniission to retire 
from the military service, and in November his resigua- 
tion was accepted by Congress, which passed a vote of 
thanks for his important aud long-continued services. 

He soon after recommenced the practice of the law, in 
which he was eminently successful. In 1780, he ac- 
cepted a seat in Congress, in which he remained during 
two sessions. He was several years attorney-general of 
New Hampshire, and was a member of the convention 
which formed her constitution, and president of that which 
adopted the constitution of the United States. He way 
president of the state from 1786 to 1789, and resigned 
that post in the latter year, to enter upon his duties as a 
justice of the Federal Court for the district of New Hamp- 
shire, whicli oilice he held until his death, which oc- 
curred at his residence in Durham, on the 23d of Janu- 
ary, 1795, when he was nearly fifty-five years of age. 



BRIGiVDIER-dKNEllAL HUGH MERCER. 

Onk hundred years ago, the British empire had a wide 
and peaceful sovereignty. Its metropolitan and colonial 
authority was secure and undisputed. The promises of a 
revolution, which had changed the tenure of the sovereign 
if not ascertained the rights of the subject, were realized in 
new limits to prerogative, new security to parliament, 
new impulse to industry, and new protection to the people. 
The sober reason of the British nation approved the ad- 
ministration of the government. But between this sober 
judgment, with all the strength which gratitude for these 
blessings gave it, and the affections of the people, there 
was still a struggle ; and the naturaliz:ed princes of the 
house of Brunswick, whom the revolution had placed upon 
the throne, from time to time were made to feel that sym- 
pathy for a family of exiled native princes was lurking in 
the bosoms of their subjects. In Scotland, bound to 
England by what was then thought an unnatural union, 
these sympathies were most active ; and the memory of her 
native princes, loyally to the name of Stuart — the sight of 
deserted palaces — a buried crown and sceptre, were 
cherished in the Scottish heart with devotion that burned 
not tlie less intensely because it burned in secret. There 
was scarcely a Highland dell or Lowland castle, which 
had not secret worshippers kneeling in proud devotion at 
an empty shrine. 

On the 19th July, 1745, a small armed vessel appeared 
ofl" the coast of Moidart. It came to anchor, and there 
landed on the Scottish shores a young and gallant prince. 
He came to claim what he proudly called \iis own, and he 
claimed it through the affections of loyal Scotland. The 

315 



216 HUGH M E U C i: R. 

banner which Charles Edward unfurled to an astonished 
people, on the hills of Gleufinnan, on the 19th August, 
1745, was an emblem from which adversity had purged 
the stains with which an ancestry of tyrants had disiigured 
it; and to the forgiving eye of loyal enthusiasm it seemed 
to float in the light of brighter and better days — the sun- 
shine which the new dominion was to shed on^ darkened 
and opprcwssed Scotland. 

It is easy for what is called the enlightened intelligence 
of this day, to look back with contemptuous pity on the 
enthusiasm which promoted and sustained this wild at- 
tempt; but who, in the pride of historical presumption, — 
the insolence of doubt, will question the true chivalry and 
romantic patriotism of the many gallant men, who, either 
without pausing to consider, or in defiance of their better 
judgment, espoused Charles Edward's cause, and hazard- 
ed their lives, — for the dread penalties of treason hung 
over all, the high and the low, the chieftain and the clans- 
man, who shared in the bold effort of desperate enthusiasm. 
The brief history of this enterprise, the invading march, 
the sullen retreat, its young leader's rapid alternations of 
hope, of confidence and despair, justified by miracu- 
lous victories and bloody reverses, need not here be 
told. It is part of Scotland's household history, and is 
embalmed in the brightest and most beautiful romance 
of Scotland's master mind. 

On the night of the I5th April, 1746, two gallant armies 
were stretched in uneasy slumber on the moors of Cullo- 
den ; the one a remnant of those enthusiasts, who, in a 
cause which their gallantry enobled, had carried terror to 
the centre of the empire ; the other a well disciplined, well 
appointed army, led to sure victory by an experienced 
leader, and restless to vvash away the discredit which re- 
cent defeat had thrown upon them. On either side of thai 
array was more than one brave man, destined to shed 
his blood in other conflicts and on a distant soil. lu 



MERCER EMBARKS FOR AMERICA. 217 

the British army was Sir Peter Halket, wiio perished in 
Braddock's defeat, on the banks of the Monongahela. 
Marching to the Pretender's standard was the young Mas- 
ter of Lovat, afterwards Major-General Fraser, who now 
rests in an unknown grave on the heights of Saratoga. 
At the head of an English regiment, was Colonel James 
Wolfe, the hero of Louisburg and Quebec — and, by 
one of the Highland watchlires, in Charles Edward's 
camp, there lay a stripling of twenty-three years of age — ■ 
a youth who had left the peaceful occupation for which he 
was educated, to serve a bloody apprenticeship in the 
rebel cause. This young man was Hugh Mercer, then an 
assistant surgeon in the Highland army. 

Every reader knows the horrors of the next day. It 
was Scotland's second Flodden field. The blood of her 
bravest sons was poured out like water, the Prince for 
whom their blood was generously shed became a pro- 
scribed wanderer, and his followers, those who escaped 
the carnage of that dark day, and the bloody penalties of 
the British law, like their Prince, were forced to seek 
safety in exile. 

Early in the following year, Mercer bade Scotland an 
eternal farewell, and embarked at Leith in a vessel bound 
to Philadelphia. Of the circumstances of his emigration 
and arrival, nothing is known except that he left his native 
country in consequence of participation in the rebellion, 
and that he settled on what was then considered the west- 
ern frontier of this province, near the present village of 
Mercersburg, in Franklin county. Tradition has not told 
us the motives of this remote and secluded residence, nor 
do we know in what occupalion, or with what aim, Mer- 
cej was engaged, till we find him a captain in the provin- 
cial forces which were raised on the breaking out of the 
French and Indian war of 1755. 

The brief experience of irregular military life acquired 

Vol. I. 19 



218 HUGH MERCER. 

in Charles Edward's enterprise was of value to a frontier 
settler, whose life was one of constant vigilance and ex- 
posure. For a series of years prior to the continental war, 
the Indian tribes on our w-estern frontiers, stimulated by 
the artifices of French emissaries, were making constant 
aggressions on the settlements. The aid of the raetropo- 
liian government had been invoked and afforded, and 
Braddock's ill-starred enterprise had shown the inelh- 
cacy of regular warfare against savages, whose de- 
fiance of discipline seemed to be the secret of their 
strength. From the Susquehanna to the Alleghany the 
unbroken forest was tenanted by hostile tribes, and scarce- 
ly a sun went down upon the settlements without the 
ghire of some burning village, and the shrieks of women 
and children arising lo break the gloom and silence of the 
night, until at last the colonial legislature, harassed beyond 
endurance by these repeated inroads, determined to raise 
an adequate force, and by the vigour of their own arms give 
security to their citizens. 

The victorious result which ensued is worthy of especial 
remembrance. A battalion of three hundred men was or- 
ganized and equipped, and despatched under the com- 
mand of Colonel John Armstrong, to penetrate the Indian 
country, and strike a decisive blow on one of their most 
remote and important positions. 

The leader of this enterprise was one of the most re- 
markable men of his time. To fearless intrepidity of the 
highest cast, there was united in his character a strong 
sense of religious responsibility, that rarely blends with 
military sentiment. He belonged to that singular race of 
men, the Scottish Covenanters, in whom austerity was a 
high virtue, and who, in the conflicts to which persecution 
trained them, never drew the sword, or struck a mortal 
blow, without the confidence which enthusiasm seemed 
to give, that agencies higher and stronger than human 



MERCER WOUNDED AT KITTANING. 219 

mfeans were battling in their behalf, and that their sword, 
whether bloodless or bloody, was always " the «word of 
the Lord." Educated in these sentiments, Joiin Arm- 
strong never swerved from them. He was foremost in his 
country's ranks, whether her cause was defence against a 
foreign foe, or revolt against oppression — in the colonial 
conflicts as well as in the war of the Revolution. He was 
always known to kneel in humble devotion and earnest 
prayer before he went into battle, and never seemed to 
doubt in the midst of the battle's fury that the work of 
blood was sanctified to some high purpose. Under this 
leader did young Mercer — for a common sympathy, at 
least on this soil, uniled the Jacobite and the Cameronian 
— fight his first American battle ; and it was in the arms of 
the son of this his ancient general, that he was carried 
mortally wounded from the bloody field of Princeton. 

The enterprise of the Pennsylvania troops in 1756, was 
one of peculiar interest. They marched from Fort Shirley 
to the Alleghany river, through a country known to be 
hostile, and reached the Indian town of Kitlaning, within 
twenty-five miles of the French garrison of Fort Du Quesne, 
without the enemy being aware of their approach. The 
troops were immediately, about the dawn of day, led to the 
assault, and after a short and bloody conflict, in which 
most of the principal Indian chiefs were killed, and nearly 
every officer of rank among the provincials wounded, the 
town was carried by storm and utterly destroyed. 

During the assault, Mercer was severely wounded, and 
being obliged to retire to the rear of the column, in the 
confiision incident to such warfare, he became separated 
from his men on the retreat, and found himself on the night 
of the battle, alone and wounded, and obliged to regain 
the settlements with no other guidance than that which 
nature gives to the solitary wanderer — the stars of heaven 
and the winter garb of the forest. In the official report 
Wrade hy Colonel Armstrong is the following return : " Cap- 



220 HUGH MERCER. 

lain Mercer's company — himself and one man wounded — 
seven killed — himself and ensign are missing.'' But the 
spirit of the Scottish soldier, of one who had witnessed 
more ghastly scenes of carnage, and encountered worse 
perils than the forest threatened, in the flight to Inverness 
when Christian savages tracked their flying victims, did 
not sink ; but though alone, faint with loss of blood and 
with a shattered arm, after reposing for a few hours on the 
field of recent conflict, he commenced his desolate pilgrim- 
age. For days and weeks did he wander through the 
forest, dependent for sustenance on its roots and berries, 
until at last striking the waters which empty into the Po- 
tomac, he was enabled, when exhausted nature seemed 
just about to sink, to reach Fort Cumberland. 

On the reorganization of the provincial forces in 1758, 
when the daring spirit of the great man at the head of the 
English ministry seemed to be infused into every branch 
of the public service. Mercer, promoted to the rank of 
a lieutenant-colonel, accompanied the army of General 
Forbes, and being present at the reduction of Fort Du 
Quesne, was left by the commander-in-chief in charge of 
that important post. It was on this expedition that he 
became acquainted with Washington, then a colonel in 
the Virginia line, an acquaintance which soon ripened into 
intimacy, and exercised so vast an influence on his future 
career. How perilous a trust was confided to Colonel 
Mercer, and how faithfully and successfully he discharged 
it, may be inferred from Washington's ominous declara- 
tion in a letter to Governor Fauquier, in December, 1758. 
" The general has in his letters," says he, " told you what 
garrison he proposed to leave at Fort Du Quesne, but the 
want of provisions rendered it impossible to leave more 
than two hundred men in all ; and these must I fear aban- 
don the place or perish. Our men left there are in such a 
miserable condition, having hardly rags to cover their 
nakedness, and exposed to the inclemency of the wealhef 



CONCORD OF THE COLONIES. 221 

in this rigorous season, that sickness, death, and desertion, 
if they are not speedily supplied, must destroy them." 
Mercer maintained the post and remained with the garrison 
till it was relieved, when he retired from the service, and 
having permanently fixed his residence at Fredericksburg, 
in Virginia, resumed the practice of his profession. 

We now approach the opening of the great chapter of 
American history. 

The repose which the colonies enjoyed between the 
peace of 17G3 and the beginning of the Revolution, was 
short and restless. The young nation lay, not in the slum- 
ber of exhaustion, but in the fitful sleep which the con- 
sciousness of a great futurity allows. It slept too with arms 
by its side, and there needed but the trumpet's feeblest 
note to arouse it to an action. The involuntary concord 
of the colonies at the outbreak of the Revolution is one of 
its most singular characteristics. It was a concord that 
transcended all mere political relations — it was beyond 
and above all political union. It was the instinctive ap- 
preciation of common right, the quick sense of common 
injury. There seemed to be but one frame, and when the 
ijand of tyranny was rudely laid on a single member, the 
whole system quivered beneath the contact, and braced 
itself to resistance. 

The three great colonies, Virginia, Massachusetts, ana 
Pennsylvania, differing in manners, habits, and opinions on 
most topics, on this of resistance knew no discord ; ano 
the signal had scarcely been lighted at Lexington and 
Bunker Hill, when an answering fire started upwards from 
the shores of the Potomac. 

The battle of Lexington was brought on 19th April, 
1775, and on the 25th, six days later, the following cha- 
racteristic letter was written to Colonel Washington, then 
by common consent regarded as the leader of all the Vir- 
ginia forces, should she raise the standard of revolt. It li 
aated at Fredericksburg. 

19* 



'2-2Z HUGH MERCER. 

« By intelligence received from Willianisburg it appears 
that Captain Collins, of his majesty's navy, at the head of 
fifteen marines, carried off the powder from the magazine 
of that city, on the night of Thursday last, and conveyed 
it on board his vessel, by order of the governor. The 
gentlemen of the independent company of this town think 
this first public insult is not to be tamely submitted to, and 
determine, with your approbation, to join any other bodies 
of armed men who are willing to appear in support of the 
honour of Virginia, as well as to secure the military stores 
yet remaining in the magazine. It is proposed to march 
from hence on Saturday next for Williamsburg, properly 
accoutred as light-horsemen. Expresses are sent off to 
inform the commanding officers of companies in the adja- 
cent counties of this our resolution, and we shall wait 
prepared for your instructions and their assistance. 

" Hugh Mercer. 

" George Weedon. 

" Alex'r. Spottswood. 

"John Willis." 

On the 29th, the volunteers of Albemarle — for the 
chivalry of Virginia was all in arms — sent Washington a 
letter to the same effect, bearing the names of Gilmer — a 
name honoured then and honoured now — of Lewis, and 
Marks. Its postscript was, "We shall stand under arras 
till we have your answer." 

In June, 1775, George W^ashington was chosen com- 
mander-in-chief, and early in the following year, the Ame- 
rican army then being in the neighbourhood of New York, 
Colonel Mercer received from Congress his commission as 
a brigadier-general. It is not improbable that his services 
were solicited at this juncture at the instance of Washing- 
ton himself, as it appears from his correspondence, that the 
commander-in-chief repaired to Philadelphia to concert 
with Congress plans for ihe organization of the army, and 



REFLECTIONS ON THE TIMES. 223 

that he remained there until the day after the date of Mer- 
cer's commission, and those of two others of his most 
valued friends. General Mercer soon left, and for ever, 
his peaceful home, his young wife and children, and joined 
the army at New York. 

And now before approaching the closing scenes of an 
eventful life, let us pause, and, writing for «citizens of a 
peaceful age, let us ask all to think gratefully of the 
contrast of the present to the past. In the Revolution, 
there was no prosperous industry, — no steady pursuit, — 
no systematic economy. The frame of society was dis- 
located. The cloud of civil war hung low upon the 
land, and if a ray of sunlight victory sometimes broke 
forth to cheer the earth, it was answered by a lurid flash 
from dark masses impending elsewhere. There was no 
rest in the Revolution, and the gentle dawn of a peaceful 
Sabbath rarely brightened on the Christian heart. The 
only prayer which rose to Heaven was the prayer of the 
armed sentinel. Yet man, American man, repined not, — • 
home was abandoned, — families separated, — the husband 
and father left his fireside without a murmur. The selfish 
sentiment of this day, that the first duty of a citizen is to 
himself and his own interests, no one then dared avow. 
The native hue of resolution was sicklied with no pale 
cast of those poor thoughts which make even the virtue of 
God's ministers a cloistered virtue. The voice of God's 
ministers spoke from the puljtit boldly to the men of the 
Revolution, and uttered, within the walls of Congress, the 
prayer of humble confidence to the God of righteous bat- 
tles. To a Jesuit, from St. Omers, was confided a public 
trust which he faithfully and gratefully discharged. The 
most eloquent man, after John Adams and Patrick Henry. 
in the old Congress, was a Scottish Presbyterian divine, 
whose intellect, strengthened in the fierce polemics of a 
Glasgow synod, had full sway and vast influence in the 
anxious deliberations of revolutionary council. No mo- 



224 HUGH MERCER. 

nastin scruple kef t these men from the performance of 
f.neit pul)lic duties. 

The tale of those endurances and sacrifices has yet to 
be written. Our military and civil history is studied and 
understood, but how few are there who know any thing 
of that household story of self-immolation and devotion, 
which, as a moral theme, makes the chief value of the 
Revolution's annals. There is many a rich tradition, — the 
yet unwritten story of those who, like Mercer, never, from 
the commencement of the struggle, left their country's 
service ; generous and unrewarded men, who devoted 
their prime of life, as he did, and, with broken spirits and 
disappointed hopes, lay down in early graves. And rich 
indeed will be our recompense, if these pages, or any one 
word upon them, shall give vigour to the interest that 
America should feel in her early history, and new life to 
the great principle of republican loyalty, which, binding 
us together by veneration of a glorious ancestry, is the 
republic's best security. 

The first campaign in which General Mercer participated 
in the continental service, was crowded with incidents of 
high interest. It immediately preceded the great change in 
our military policy, which made the war one of otfensive 
enterprise, and to no one more than to him is that change 
attributable. The battle on Long Island, the retreat to 
New York, the evacuation of that city, contrary to the ad- 
vice of Mercer, who was perhaps wisely overruled, and of 
Greene whose bold counsel it was to burn the city to the 
ground, the battle of White Plains, the fall of Fort Wash- 
ington, the projected attack on Staten Island confided to 
Mercer, and the retreat through New Jersey, were the 
prominent incidents of this eventful period. Throughout 
it all, Mercer was in active service under the immediate 
orders of the commander-in-chief, to whose affections he 
was closely endeared. 

As early as the 8th of December, 1776, the broken re- 



CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 225 

mains of the American array had taken their last desperate 
position on the western bank of the Delaware, and giooni} 
and perplexed were its desponding councils. A large and 
well appointed British army had driven the few troops that 
remained in service before them through New Jersey, and 
the river, rendered more formidable by the floating ice, 
appeared to be the only barrier to their farther advance. 
Congress, reduced in numbers, and broken in spirit, was 
losing its power of self-support, and Philadelphia, then the 
na;ion's capital, seemed destined to a certain fall. 

It was at a moment like this when, in worse than mid- 
nio^ht gloom, terror and perplexity seemed to sway the 
mind of man, that the influence of Washington was so 
sublimely realized. The ordinary virtue of the daring sol- 
dier was thrown into the shade by the rarer and brighter 
developments of his character; and Washington, at that 
moment of prevalent despair, himself desponding in spirit, 
but outwardly calm, collected, and resolute, the recipient 
of rash and timid counsels, the guardian of a broken and 
dispirited army, the supporter and best counsellor of Con- 
gress, who, in this moment of extremity threw all the du- 
ties of a sinking stale on him, is as fine a spectacle as the 
history of the world, ancient or modern, can exhibit. 

The annals of the Revolution have no period of gloom 
like this. Evil counsels and insubordination aggravated 
Washington's just solicitude. Phantoms and realities 
alike perplexed the public mind. On the 10th of Decem- 
ber, he wrote to General Lee a letter of almost desperate 
supplication to induce him with his troops instantly to join 
the main body of the army, and on the 14th, relying on its 
success, he intimated in a letter to Governor Trumbull his 
intention, if Lee joined him, to make an offensive move- 
ment on the enemy. On the day before, Lee, then sta- 
tioned at Basken Ridge, wrote to General Gates a letter, 
strongly characteristic of his ill-regulated mind, and of 
^nat spirit of morbid jealousy which was his ruin. "11 1 

P 



£26 HUGH MERCER. 

stay in tins province, I risk myself and army, and if T ac 
not stay, the province is lust for ever. I have neither 
guides, cavalry, medicines, money, shoes or stockings. 
Tories are in my front, rear, and on my flanks. The mass 
of the people is strangely contaminated ; in short, unless 
something turns up which I do not expect, we are lost. 
Congress has been weak to the last degree. As to what 
relates to yourself, if you think you can be in time to aid 
the general, I would have you by all means go. You will 
at least save your army. It is said the whigs are deter- 
mined to set fire to Philadelphia. If they strike this de- 
cisive blow the day will be our own, but unless it is done 
all chance of liberty in any part of the globe is for ever 
vanished." 

The ink was scarcely dry upon this letter when Lee was 
made prisoner in his quarters by a party of British dragoons, 
and the hopes of the commander-in-chief of his co-opera- 
tion entirely frustrated. 

The situation of Philadelphia at this dark hour, it is not 
easy for us in this peaceful day to realize. A British frigate 
and sloop of war were at anchor within the capes of the 
Delaware, and large bodies of Hessian and British troops 
were encamped wilhin a few miles, in New Jersey. "It 
was just dark," says a military traveller who witnessed the 
desolation, " when we entered Front street, and it appeared 
as if we were riding through a city of the dead. Such was 
the silence and stillness which prevailed, that the dropping 
of a stone would have been heard for several squares, and 
the hoofs of our horses resounded in all directions." On 
the 12th and 13th December, General Putnam, then in 
command at Philadelphia, issued his memorable orders, 
which tell a gloomy tale of popular alarm. 

" The late advances of the enemy oblige the general to 
request the inhabitants of this city not to appear in the 
streets after ten o'clock at night, as he has given orders to 
the picket guard to arrest and confine all persons who may 



Putnam's orders. 227 

be found in the streets after that hour. Physicians and 
others, having essential business after that hour, are 
directed to call at headquarters for passes. 

" The general has been informed that some weak oi 
wicked men have maliciously reported that it is the design 
and wish of the officers and men in the continental army 
to burn and destroy the city of Philadelphia. To counter 
act such a false and scandalous report he thinks it neces- 
sary to inform the inhabitants who propose to remain in 
the city, that he has received positive orders from the 
honourable continental Congress, and from his excellency 
General Washington, to secure and protect the city of 
Philadelphia against all invaders and enemies. The gene- 
ral will consider any attempt to burn the city as a crime 
of the blackest dye, and will, without ceremony, punish 
capitally any incendiary who shall have the hardiness and 
cruelty to attempt it. The general commands all able- 
bodied men who are not conscientiously scrupulous about 
bearing arms, and who have not been known heretofore to 
have entertained such scruples, to appear in the State 
House yard at ten o'clock with their arms and accoutre- 
ments. This order must be complied with, the general 
being resolutely determined that no person shall remain 
in the city an idle spectator of the present contest who has 
it in its power to injure the American cause, or who may 
refuse to lend his aid in support of it, persons under con- 
scientious scruples alone excepted." 

Nor was Congress free from the infection of that hour 
of alarm. The published proceedings indicate the gloom 
which oppressed its deliberations. The secret resolves. 
as communicated to General Washington, show at once 
the uncertainty of their counsels, and the far reaching 
sagacity of him whose conduct Congress professed to regu- 
late. On the 11th of December Congress passed a reso- 
lution denouncing as scandalous a rumour which was then 
current, that they intended to leave Philadelphia. It was 



228 HUGH MERCER. 

coramunicaled to Washington, with a request that it should 
be published to the army. On the 12th he wrote to Con- 
gress, declining to accede to their request, and frankly 
saying, that in his judgment such a resolution and its pub- 
lication were alike inexpedient. And on the next day 
Congress resolved to adjourn precipitately to Baltimore, 
and conferred on Washington full and unlimited powers 
to conduct the war as he pleased. 

What secret thoughts, what hidden despair oppressed 
the mind of Washington, it is difficult to conceive. His 
letters, private and official, breathe the spirit of calm and 
abiding confidence, that the cause of liberty would yet 
prosper, though the means by which the result was to be 
achieved were unseen. " Our little handful is daily de- 
creasing by sickness and other causes ; and without aid, 
without considerable succours ami exertions on the part 
of the people, what can we reasonably look for or expect 
but an event which will be severely felt by the common 
cause, and will wound the heart of every virtuous Ameri- 
can, the loss of Philadelphia." In a letter to his brother 
on the 18th, he says, " 1 have no doubt but General Howe 
will still niake an attempt on Philadelphia this winter. I 
foresee nothing to prevent him a fortnight hence, as the 
time of all the troops except those of Virginia, now re- 
duced almost to nothing, and Smallwood's regiment of 
Marylanders, equally as low, will expire before the end 
of that time. In a word, if every nerve is not strained to 
recruit the new army with all possible expedition, I think 
the game is nearly up. You can form no idea of the per- 
plexity of my situation. No man ever had a greater choice 
of difficulties, and less means to extricate himself from 
them. But under a full persuasion of the justice of our 
cause, I cannot entertain an idea that it will finally sink, 
though it may remain for some time under a cloud." 

It was at this desperate crisis, when hope seemed dead, 
that in the American camp the suggestion was made to 



t;HANGlNG THE POLICY OF THE WAK. 229 

change the policy of the war, and make a sudden move 
ment on the detached outposts of the enemy, then scat- 
tered carelessly through New Jersey, from Brunswick to 
Trenton. With whom this plan originated, history has 
not precisely ascertained. If, as is most probable, it was 
the council of war, it may have had its origin in many a 
brave but desponding spirit. Certain it is, that it received 
its best encouragement from the success of an appeal made 
to the volunteers and militia of Philadelphia, who, to the 
number of more than 1500 men, marched to the camp 
near Trenton. 

As early as the 14th December, the idea of an attack 
geems to have suggested itself to the mind of the com- 
mander-in-chief, but to have been dependent on a junction 
with General Lee, then supposed to be in the rear of the 
enemy, but who was really their prisoner. A witness who 
within a few years has sunk into the grave, thus ascribes 
this movement.* " Two or three days after we had 
crossed the Delaware, there were several meetings be- 
tween the adjutant-general and General Mercer, at which 
I was permitted to be present; the questions were dis- 
cussed whether the propriety and practicability did not 
exist of carrying the outposts of the enemy, and ought not 
to be attempted. On this point no disagreement existed 
between the generals, and, to remove objections in other 
quarters, it was determined they should separately open 
the subject to the commander-in-chief, and to such officers 
as would probably compose his council of war, if any 
should be called. I am sure the first of these meetings 
was at least ten days before the attack on Trenton was 
made." On the I8th, news of an intended attack were 
\,urrent in Philadelphia, and, on the 21st, General Greene 
wrote from camp to the governor of Rhode Island, thai he 
Doped that an attack would soon be made. 

• General ^then Major) Armstrong, an aid of General Mercer. 

Vol. I. 20 



230 HUGH M ;■: u c e r. 

On Iho next clay, llie adjutant-general, Colonel Reed, 
wrote from Bristol a letter of urgent solicitation, which nc 
doubt expressed the sentiment of a large portion of the 
olFicers ol the army, and indicated Trenton, or its imme- 
diate vicinity, as the best point of attack.* Such sugges- 
tions, thus urged by his most valued friends, — by Greene, 
by Mercer, and Reed, met with a ready response in the 
breast of Washit)Li;t()u, and the plun of attack was soon 
concerted. The iMiiladelphia and New Jersey troops were 
to cross the Delaware below, while the main body of the 
army, — if such a plirase be applicable to a remnant so 
meagrp, — under Washington, Mercer, and Sullivan, cross- 
ing above Trenton, were to attack the enemy there. But 
even then the hope of a successful issue seemed desperate; 
and two days before the battle, Washington wrote to 
Robert Morris in a tone of deep solicitude — " For God's 
sake hurry on the clothing to my sullering men. Leave 
no arms or valuable papers in the city, for sure I am that 
the enemy wait for two events alone to begin their opera- 
tions on Philadelphia, — ice for a passage over the Dela- 
ware, and the dissolution of the poor remains of my 
debilitated army." 

On the night before the battle, Washington wrote his 
'ast letter to the commanders of the Philadelphia troops. 
" The bearer is sent down to know if your plan was at- 
tempted last night ; and if not, to inform you that Christ- 
mas day at night, one hour before day, is fixed for our 
attempt on 'I'renton. For Heaven's sake keep this to 
yourself, as the discovery may prove fatal to us; our 
numbers, sorry am I to say, being less than I had any 
conception of, but necessity — dire necessity may, nay, 
must justify an attack. Prepare your men and attack as 
many of their posts as you possibly can with any prospect 
of success. I have ordered our men three day, proiision 

• Sparks's Washington, vol. iv. p. 54? 



U A T r L E OF T R K N T O N . 231 

and their blankets, for if we are successful, which Heaven 
grant, we shall push on." 

The issue of that enterprise need not be told. It turned 
the tide of war, and gave an impulse to popular feelinj? 
which was in strange contrast to previous despondency. 
Araid the darkness of a winter night did Washington lead 
the remnant of his shattered army on this desperate enter- 
prise, and a brief and bloody conflict terminated in a 
glorious victory. The column of attack operating on the 
main street leading from Princeton, was commanded by 
Mercer, and became the most efficient in obstructing the 
retreat of the enemy. 

It is unnecessary to trace in detail the military opera- 
tions that immediately followed the victory at Trenton. 
It was no sooner won than the American army with the 
prisoners recrossed the Delaware, and resumed their 
former position. Here they remained till the 29th, when 
offensive operations were renevved. General Washington 
again entered New Jersey, and the British army advanced, 
the reconnoitring parties being at Trenton, to recover the 
ground they had lost. 

On the night of the 2d January, 1777, the American 
camp was the scene of anxious council. The panic which 
the unexpected blow at Trenton inspired had subsided, 
and the British army in full force had resumed their posi- 
tion, and looked forward to the next day for the consum- 
mation of their revenge. A small creek alone separated 
the two armies. Each seemed in deep repose, and the 
sentry of either camp as he paced his weary round looked 
out upon the watchfires of the enemy burning brightly and 
steadily, and felt assured that the jiresence of a vindictive 
or desperate foe insured a bloody day to-morrow. Night 
had scarcely closed before a council of war was held by 
the Americans, and anxious attention bestowed on the only 
two questions tiien deemed worth consideration, '.vhether 
» '•etreat were advisable, or whether the attack of a supe 



232 H U G II M K U C K 11. 

rior f(uri' s\i()iil(l hr (Micdiinlcri'd on lliis a fiold of rccont 
vicMoiy. I'^ach sci'inod alike (losperate — the diirunilty of 
their position was too apparent, the over\vlu'liniii<; forct 
of the enemy rtMuh'red defence impracticable, antl an 
ahnost inij)assal)le river, al least to an army in hasty retreat 
in llieir rear, closed all avenue to escape. 'I'hen it was, 
th;i{ Mercer thn'w out the l)old idea that one C(»iirse had 
not yet been tlion^ht of, and this was to oriler up the Phi- 
ladelphia militia, niake a ni^ht march on Princeton — 
attack the two British regiments said to l)e there under 
Lesley, (roulinue the march to Brunswick, and desiroy ihe 
m.iga/.ines at that |)OSt. "And where," was Washington's 
(piestion, "can (he army take post at Brunswick.'' — my 
knowledo^e of the coun'ry does not enable me to t^ay," 
(Jeneral Sincdair gave a full and clear descrijition of the 
hilly country between Morristown and Brunswick, and 
tlie nigiit march, as suggested by Merci-r, was after brief 
disi'ussion agreed to without dissent. iOach olllcer hastened 
to the head of liis corps, and, before the dawn of day, the 
brilliant matueuvre thus suggested, gloriously for his coun- 
try, iatally for himselt', was successfully executed. 

The night w^as dark and intensely cold. There was no 
moon, but the stars were watching from a cloudless sky 
tl»e doings of that midnight luiur. Sleep had begun to 
steal over the tired soldier of cither army, but the steady 
eye of watchful discipline, the experienced ear that so 
easily detects a hostile movement, whether of attack or 
retreat, slept not. The British generals, sure of to-morrow's 
victory, watcheil closely the camp of the Americans. The 
sound of the party working on the intrenchments at the 
ford was distinctly heard — the watchfnes burned brightly 
and IVeshly, the senlimds were plainly seen marching" 
stcadil) and silently, and all seemed w(dl. The rebel 
victim was safe within the toils. But as the gray of the 
dawn was visible, and the lirsi note of the Briti.^h reveille 
was sounded, no answering drum was heard. A moment 



MERC i; K W O U N I) i: D AT P 11 I N C E T O N. •2']3 

of expectation, and slill no fclio to llie sohJier's call — all 
wa.s silent as the grave — till suddenly there burst forth the 
straii<^e sound ot" winter thunder in th(; British rear. 
"What can that firin"^ be?" is said to have been Lord 
Cornwallis's anxious and incredulous (juestion. " M) 
lord," was the prompt reply of Sir William Erskine, " it 
is Washinj^lori at Princeton." 

In that ni<^ht march, to him who had sug(((,'sted the 
movement was intrusted the command of the advanced 
party. As the day broke a large body of British troops 
was discovered apparently in march to Trenton, and after 
pausing to confer with Washington, who arrived on the 
field in a short time, the bold design was foriniMl and exe- 
cuted by Mercer, of throwing his brigade between the 
enemy antJ their reserve at Princeton, and thus forcing on 
a general action. The movement was carried into effect. 
The fall of Colonel Ilazlet, mortally wounded, at the head 
of his men, threw them into momentary confusion, and 
General Mercer's horse being kilh.'d by the enemy's fire, 
he was left alone and dismounted on the field. Disdain- 
ing to surrender, and indignant at the apjjarenl confusion 
of his men, he encountered, single handed, a detachment 
of the enemy, and being beaten to the earth by the butts 
of their muskets, was savagely and mortally stabbed by 
their bayonets. The struggle of that day was as brief as 
it was bloody, and with tlie loss of many of the bravest 
officers; of Ilazlet, of .Slii|)pen, of Fleming, of Neal, and 
Mercer, the American troops remained in possession of 
the field so hardly won. 

Wilhin a short time. Major Armstrong, the general's 
lid, found him lying bleeding and insensible on the field. 
He Was removed to a neighbouring farm, where he lingered 
.n extreme suffering (the house being alternately occupied 
by British and American parlies) till the I'iih January, 
when, breathing liis last prayer for his yoimg and help- 
less family and his bleeding country, he expired in the 
20* 



234 JOHN ARMSTRONG. 

arms of Major George Lewis, a fellow-citizen of his be- 
loved Virginia, and nephew of Washington. 

Nor was his dying bed a bed of utter desolation. The 
house whither the wounded soldier was carried was 
tenanted, during that day, by two delicate females, who, 
wearing the garb and professing the principles of peace, 
were too brave to fly from the field of battle, or the bed 
of death. While the conflict raged around their humble 
dwelling, these two tender, helpless women, lo.st no con- 
fidence in the protection which the God of innocence 
rarely withholds — and when the dying warrior was brought 
to their threshold and left beneath their roof, their minis- 
tering charities were ready to soothe his solitary anguish 
and smooth the passage to the grave. One of these Ame- 
rican women of better times has died near Princeton within 
the last few years, aged upwards of ninety years. It 
was part of her household story that she had watched the 
deathbed of a soldier of the Revolution. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN ARMSTRONG. 

In giving the history of General Mercer the character 
of John Armstrong is sketched so fully* that we have here 
to add but a few dates. He resided in Carlisle, Penn- 
sylvania, during the French war, and in 1756 marched 
with two hundred and fifty provincials from Fort Shirley 
to Kittanning, on the Allegheny, the rendezvous of a large 
party of hostile Indians, which he destroyed. On the first 
of March, 1776, he was appointed a brigadier-general in 
the continental service; on the 17th of February, 1777, 
was ordered to the southern department ; and on the 
4th of Aprd left the army on account of dissatisfaction in 
regard to rank. He subsequently commanded the Penn- 
sylvania militia at Brandywine and Germantown. He 
was in Congress in 1778 and 1787, and died at an ad- 
vanced age in Carlisle, on the 9th of March, 1795. 

• Ante, p. 218. 



MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY KNOX. 

Henry Knox was born in Boston, in the year 1750 
He had the misfortune to lose his father at an early age 
His education was intrusted to his mother, who could only 
bestow upon him such instruction as her limited means 
could command. His devotion to his widowed parent 
early incited him to exertion, and before the age of twenty- 
one, he had established himself in a lucrative business as 
a bookseller. He exhibited in his youth a great fondness 
for military tactics, and attached himself as an officer to a 
grenadier company, whose manoeuvres elicited the praise 
of a distinguished British officer then in Boston. 

When hostilities between the mother country and the 
colonies began to attract public attention and to assume a 
threatening appearance, Knox espoused the cause of his 
country. He had married the daughter of a gentleman, 
who for a long time had held an office under the British 
government, and who was known to be an uncompromis- 
ing Tory. Fortunately for Knox his wife was deaf to the 
arguments of her father, and adopted his own views. 
When hostilities began to take a tangible form, Knox 
openly advocated the colonial interest. During the first 
opposition to England, and the oppressive measures ad- 
vocated by her representatives, he was only a looker on ; 
but when he deemed it the duty of every American to 
join the standard so boldly raised in defence of our pro- 
vincial rights, he commenced that career which added 
such lustre to his name, and secured to him a place among 
the revolutionary heroes. 

He was at the battle of Bunker Hill as a volunteer. He 
naa some difficulty in escaping from Boston to join the 

235 



236 HENRY KNOX. 

provincials. His wife accompanied him and concealed 
beneath her dress the sword which was destined, in the 
hands of her "liege lord," to carve out the path of glory 
upon which he strode to immortality. When Washing-ton 
arrived in Cambridge, as commander-in-chief, Knox pre- 
sented himself and tendered his services. The}^ were 
accepted. It was a matter of serious consideration how 
ordnance was to be procured for our army. Without 
artillery nothing could be effected against the proud foe, 
who then held possession of the capital of the north, and 
who looked contemptuously at that time upon the insur- 
rection of tiie oppressed freemen, whom they regarded as 
misled rebels. Knox knew the want of this arm of our 
service and fully appreciated our inability to contend 
against a well i)rovided enemy without it. The only 
cannon to be had were then to be found among our decayed 
fortifications on the Canadian frontier. It seemed impossi- 
ble to obtain them from such a distance, especially as our 
army was too weak to detach the force required to pro- 
cure their transport, and an inclement season was at hand. 

With an ardour of enterprise which few possessed, 
Knox volunteered to bring the ordnance to the camp. Re- 
lying upon such aid as he might obtain from the thinly 
populated country through which he had to pass, and 
never yielding to the despondency that might have de- 
terred a less bold and less persevering spirit, he gallantly 
undertook the task, and gallantly accomplished it. The 
perils of a northern winter, the thousand obstacles that 
opposed him, not only in the character of the region he 
had to traverse, but in the want of the requisite aid, were 
all nobly surmounted, and he brought to the assistance of 
our cause the weapons most needed to insure its success. 
This act stamped the character of Knox. Washington 
appreciated his services, and immediately rewarded him 
with the command of the artillery. 

Among the incidents of this enterprise, we cannot for- 



HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 237 

bear to mention the accidental meeting of Knox with Andre 
that unhappy officer whose fate was so deeply deplored by 
those of both nations who knew and esteemed his accom- 
plishments and gentleman-like deportment. Knox was 
delighted with him, and such was the impression made 
upon his mind that, in after years, when called upon to 
pronounce sentence as a member of that tribunal which 
condemned him, he confessed the friendship he had 
formed, but made his painful duty doubly bitter. 

During the continuance of the war, the corps of artillery 
was always attached to the main body of our army. This 
position brought its commander into constant attendance 
upon Washington. His arm of the service was deemed 
an essential auxiliary to the movements of the campaign. 
An intimacy thus sprung up between the commander-in- 
chief and Knox, which continued until the hour of 
death, and gave birth to a mutual confidence and esteem 
that time but strengthened. Knox was in every battle 
where Washington fougl it. 

The sphere in which he achieved his renown, was, 
until the siege of Yorktown, confined to the northern 
and middle states. After the battle of Whiteplains, Wash- 
ington deemed it expedient to retreat farther south, and 
crossed the Delaware, leaving the British in possession of 
New York. Having received reinforcements from Mary- 
land and Virginia, he suddenly recrossed the river, and 
achieved his brilliant victories at Trenton and Princeton, 
in the very hour when Lord Cornwallis deemed the Ame- 
rican army annihilated. In these battles Knox bore a 
conspicuous and important part. 

In 1777, when Sir William Howe's design upon Phila- 
delphia became apparent, Washington met the advancing 
enemy at Brandywine, and opposed our scanty forces to 
the full strength of the British army. All efforts against 
uch odds proved unavailing ; the Americans retreated, 
yet Knox shielded that reti-eat in such a manner that many 



238 HENRY KNOX. 

were saved f/om the sword of the foe. On the 26th of 
September Sir William Howe made his triumphal entrance 
iuto Philadelphia. The battle of Germantown followed 
on the 4th of October, and in this contest, which gave at 
first such bright promise to our arms — a promise that was 
sadly disappointed — Knox won fresh laurels by his dar- 
ing conduct, his judgment, and the skilful management of 
his command. The winter drew nigh, and our army 
went into winter quarters at Valley Forge. 

At no period of our history did our cause assume so 
desperate a character as at this moment. The stoutest 
heart was unable to contemplate the gloomy future with- 
out fearful apprehensions. Without clothing, without 
food, without pay, exposed to the relentless storms of that 
inclement season, our army might well murmur, and they 
did complain bitterly; and it was a solemn task — to quiet 
the reproaches of his men — that Washington then had to 
perform. In this dark hour Knox seemed to cherish a 
prophetic confidence in our cause. To judge from his 
letters written at this time, he possessed a firm reliance 
upon our ultimate success, and although he was well 
aware of our destitute condition, and was keenly alive 
to the trials yet to be endured, his faith in our triumph 
never forsook him, nor did his noble heart even once yield 
to despondency. His confidence and example had their 
effect. Although the battles alluded to had been severe, 
the most trying conilict of the Revolution had yet to be 
encountered. The battle of Monmouth was the most 
bloody contest of them all. In this struggle Knox was 
slightly wounded in the hand, but he contributed such signal 
aid with his artillery, and exhibited so much cool bravery, 
and skilful management of his ordnance, that even the 
enemy bestowed unqualified praise upon his gallant be- 
haviour. In his general orders, Washington expressed 
the highest and most marked encomiums upon liis conJuci 
and services. 



FRIENDSHIP OF WASHINGTON. 239 

At the siege of Yorktown, Knox added fresh lusVe to 
his name. In that memorable siege, which resulted in the 
surrender of Lord Cornwallis on the 19th of October, 1781, 
and secured the great end of the Revolution, he gave more 
essential assistance than any other officer. Thacher, in 
his Military Journal, says, << his animated exertions, his 
military skill, his cool and determined bravery, in this 
triumphant struggle, received the unanimous approbation 
of his brethren in arms." His services were at once re- 
cognised by Congress, who bestowed upon him the com- 
mission of a major-general. 

He was afterwards appointed with two other commission- 
ers to adjust the terms of peace. He executed this delicate 
negotiation in a most creditable manner, and much to the 
satisfaction of the country. He was also deputed to receive 
the surrender of the city of New York, on the 25th of 
November, 1783, and subsequently was appointed to thf 
C3mmand of West Point. Here ends his military career 

We find Knox upon the field, in the camp, in the coun- 
cils of his commander-in-chief, ever the brave, self-sacri- 
ficing, daring, cool, wise and noble soldier and patriot. 
Let us turn a moment to a less brilliant yet not less 
pleasing side of his character ; let us look at him as a 
man, as a friend, as a husband, as a father. 

When Washington parted with him at New York, he 
is said to have shed tears, so warmly had Knox attached 
himself to one who could read men's hearts and penetrate 
their souls as a ray of light penetrates the gloom of a 
chamber. They had long been together, and Washing- 
ton had learned to appreciate and to love him. This 
speaks volumes for the head and heart of Knox, as 
Washington was not easily won. 

The war having been brought to a happy termination, a 
most serious duty yet remained to be performed ; a duty 
of no common magnitude, and one that had not been 



i.40 HENRY KNOX. 

generally anticipated. Men who had stood the brunt of 
battle, had risked their lives under every hardsliip, to 
secure the general liberty, were now to be disbanded. 
They were reckless and discontented. For their great serr 
vices they had demands agiiinst our government, whose 
treasury was empty and whose resources were exhaustedf 
All tliat could be given in payment of hard-earned wages 
was the faith of a government then hardly established. 
Such reward for toils endured gave rise to murmurs and 
complainings which threatened to breed domestic turmoil 
and contention, and even to overthrow the freedom they had 
struggled so hard to gain. Knox saw and felt the impend- 
ing danger. He api)Iied himself by conciliatory argut 
menis ai)d by persuasive reasonings, to appease the 
gathering storm, ami by his popularity and iniluence, his 
resolution and his intrepid perseverance, succeeded in 
soothing the irritated soldiery, and in bringing them back 
to a just sense of their duties as citizens and men. Such 
services were of inestimable value in such an hour. 

While sitting at the table of his commander-in-chief, 
surrounded by his gallant brethreu-iu-arms, with whom 
he had fought side by side, and from whom he now felt 
he was soon to part, perhaps never to meet again, his 
generous heart was unwilling to take leave of those whom 
he had leiirned to love without the assurance of some tie 
that should unite them when other duties called each to 
his abode. It was at this moment his gentle and affec- 
tionate disposition gave birth to the idea of a society now 
known and louff honoured as The Cincinnati. It owes its 
existence to Knox, uho was elected the first vice-presi- 
dent, an ofBce he held until his death. 

At the close of 17S3, having performed all tlie duties of 
his station, he retired to his home in Maine, where he had 
added to his estate, inherited from his wife's ancestor, by 
extensive pun^hases. He was not allowed the luxury of 
repose for any length of time, for in 1784 he was ap- 



PERSONAL A P P F. A R A N C E. 24 1 

pointed by Congress, under the old confederation, secretary 
of war, and at once confirmed by Washington. 

When Washington was elected President, Knox, having 
nad five years' experience in the duties of that dejjartrnent, 
and being personally known and esteemed for his capacity 
and integrity, was re-appointed, and he continued to hold 
the office until 1795, when Washington most reluctantly 
accepted his resignation. In this new sphere of action, 
we find him labouring with undiminished zeal for the 
welfare of his country. The complaints against the free- 
booters of the Mediterranean, and the threatened war 
with France, induced him to urge upon Congress the 
necessity of a navy, that subject then being under the 
direction of the War Department. His propositions were 
opposed, but his perseverance and sound arguments finally 
jjrevailed, and birth was given to our marine, which re- 
ceived the fostering care of its parent. The fatigues of 
service had not failed to awaken a desire for rest, and in 
179.5, he retired to his home at Thomaston, in Maine, 
where he had erected a princely mansion. 

He was a large man, of full habit, and above the middle 
stature. In walking, his feet were nearly parallel, owing 
to the outward inclination of his lower limbs. He wore a 
queue, w ith his hair short in front, brushed up, and pow- 
dered. He had a low forehead, a large face, and small 
gray but brilliant eyes. When walking, he carried a largo 
cane, but usually under his arm ; if he used it at all, it 
was when excited in conversation, when he would some- 
times flourish it to aid his eloquence. He customarily 
wore black. His left hand having been mutilated at Mon- 
mouth, he wore around it a black silk handkerchief, which 
ho would unwind and rewind when talking, but without 
exposing his hand. His voice was strong, and bore the 
characteristic of having been accustomed to command. 
His mind was powerful, rapid and decisive ; he wascapa- 
i)le of continued application and of effective mought. He 

Vol. I. 21 Q 



242 HENRY R.NOX. 

was of a highly social disposition, and enjored what few at 
present seem to enjoy, a hearty laugh. His fancy wa? 
active, and his mode of expressing himself no less bril- 
liant than felicitous. He said that through life he had 
risen with the dawn, and had been always a cheerful man. 

With his social disposition and generous heart, he was 
one of the most hospitable of men. At his noble resi- 
dence he often gathered around him a numerous circle of 
friends, among whom he was ever the most agreeable 
companion. As to the extent of his hospitality, it was not 
an unusual thing for him to make up in summer one hun- 
dred beds daily in his house, and to kill an ox and twenty 
sheep every Monday morning. He kept twenty saddle- 
horses and several pairs of carriage-horses, for the use of 
his guests and himself This expensive style of living 
was enough to exhaust a larger fortune than he possessed. 
He had too confidently calculated upon large sales of his 
lands, and being therein disappointed, his costly hospi- 
tality and exuberant generosity threw him into pecuniary 
embarrassments towards the close of his life. 

When President Adams concluded to form an army in 
1798, Washington accepted tlie chief command, and 
named Alexander Hamilton first in rank under him ; 
Charles Cotesworth Pinckney second, and Knox tliird. 
This hurt Knox very much, for he was Hamilton's senior, 
and it made him hesitate awhile as to accepting the oflSce. 
But he soon yielded a soldier's sensibility to manly feel- 
ing and the nature of the call, and finally accepted the 
proffered post. 

He died very suddenly at his residence in Thomaston, 
in the year 1806, aged fifty-six years. The immediate 
cause of his death was a rapid and fatal mortification, 
produced from swallowing a chicken-bone, at breakfast. 
The abilities and integrity of General Knox have been 
amply vindicated by recent historians, and there are few 
names in our history that now shine with a purer lustre 



MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

•* Arnold's conduct," wrote Washington, on the l8th of 
October, 1780, " is so villanously perfidious, that there 
are no terras that can describe the baseness of his heart. 
The confidence and folly which have marked the subse- 
quer.t career of this man are of a piece with his viliany, and 
all three are perfect in their kind."* Such is Washing- 
ton's recorded judgment on Benedict Arnold. Such is the 
deliberate opinion of one whose instincts of right and wrong 
rarely misled him, who was slow to anger and who mea- 
sured every word of praise or censure that he uttered. 
Yet strange to say, now that nearly seventy years have 
rolled by, an effort is making partially to reverse this judg- 
ment, and if not to praise, to excuse or account for Ar- 
nold's last and worst overt act of crime, by attributing it 
to some outward and irresistible pressure, or by the reca- 
pitulation of his earlier deeds of audacious bravery. Brave, 
desperately brave, he certainly was. He showed it in 
the wilderness march of 1775, in the attack on Quebec, 
and at the heights of Saratoga, but more than all, did he 
show it on occasions which his whimsical apologists are 
glad to pass by unnoticed, when, with a halter round his 
neck, he led an invading array into the heart of Virginia; 
when he gazed from the belfry of the New London 
church on a burning village, and sanctioned the murder of 
Colonel Ledyard, at the storming of Fort Griswold. But 
of all the qualities which form the character of heroic men, 
that is least worthy of admiration which, however essen- 
tial, is common to the beast of prey and the ruffian whose 

• Letter to President Reed, 18th October, 1780. Vn. Washingtoa's 
Works, p. 264. 

243 



244 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

sword is at the command of those who best can pay for it 
Desperate, reckless courage, the fruit of physical organi- 
zation, is the solitary virtue of Arnold's character — the 
scanty material out of which his apologists weave all their 
praises. His avarice, for he was rapacious to the last de- 
gree, his voluptuousness, which knew no restraint, his 
meanness, for, when it suited selfish purposes, he was an 
adept in all the poor arts of defamation, his insensibility, 
for he could stand by and without apparent compunction 
see a relatively guiltless confederate die on the scaffold, 
his mercenary shamelessness, for he could receive the 
wases of treason thus stained with blood, his last and 
worst act, the sale of his country's — his confiding coun- 
try's trust for gold — all are to be forgotten, and we find- 
writers of clever parts and popular talent, labouring to 
undo the world's well-settled judgment, and to prove that 
Arnold was not so bad as he is thought to be. In no such 
spirit of perverse apology do we write. A time-sanctioned 
judgment is oftener right than wrong, and on such in this 
instance do we rely. Washington knew Arnold well, and 
when the first flush of disappointment and resentment had 
passed away, wrote the words which are inscribed at the 
head of this chapter, and which will live and be remem- 
bered when all attempts at palliation are forgotten. It 
is best it should be so. The public necessities which call 
for patriotic sacrifices and exertions are not exhausted. 
The virtues of the Revolution and its soldiers may be 
needed again. The errors — the crimes, happily very 
few, of the men of those days of trial may find imitators, 
and who shall say that Arnold's example of infamy may 
not hereafter be profitable to deter. If, in the relations of 
private life, any thing had appeared to justify a charitable 
or kind construction of his conduct, the effort to palliate 
conceded public offences, and to reconcile them with 
some theory of accidental lapse from virtue or imaginary 
exigency, might be pardoned, but the uniformity, the cou- 



HIS BOYHOOD. 245 

sistericy of public and private conduct is here complete, 
and the result is no other than that at which the latest and 
most judiciously tolerant writer on the subject has arrived, 
when, as it were, throwing aside the dismal record in indig- 
nant disgust, he says: "I am inclined to believe that Ar- 
nold was a finished scoundrel from early manhood to his 
grave. Nor do I believe he had any real and true-hearted 
attachment to the whig cause. He fought as a mere ad- 
venturer, and took sides from a calculation of personal 
gain and chances of plunder and advancement."* 

The place of Arnold's birth was Norwich, in the colony 
of Connecticut — its date the 3d of January, 1740. Of 
his boyhood, his best and kindest biographer thus speaks: 

« To an innate love of mischief, young Arnold added 
an obduracy of conscience, a cruelty of disposition, an 
irritability of temper, and a reckless indifference to the 
good or ill opinion of others, that left but a slender foun- 
dation upon which to erect a system of correct principle 
or habits. Anecdotes have been preserved of all these 
traits. One of his earliest amusements was the robbery of 
birds' nests, and it was his custom to maim and mangle 
young birds in sight of old ones, that he might be diverted 
with their cries. Near the druggist's shop was a school- 
house, and he would place in the path broken pieces of 
glass, taken from the crates, by which the children would 
cut their feet in coming from school. The cracked and 
imperfect phials which came in the crates were perquisites 
of the apprentices. Hopkins, a fellow-apprentice and an 
amiable youth, was in the habit of placing his share on the 
outside of the shop near the door, and permitting the small 
boys to take them away, who were pleased with this toktm 
of his good will. Arnold followed the same practice, bui 
when he had decoyed the boys and they were busy pick- 
ing up the broken phials, he would rush out of the shop 

• Sabiiie's Americiui Loyalists, p. 131. 

■ , 21* 



246 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

with a horsewhip in his hand, call them thieves, and beat 
them with'^Mt pity. These and similar acts afforded him 
pleasure. He was likewise fond of rash feals of daring, 
always foremost in danger, and as fearless as he was 
wickedly mischievous. Sometimes he took corn to a grist- 
mill in the neighbourhood, and while waiting for \he meal, 
he would amuse himself and astonish his playmates, by 
clinging to the arms of a large water-wheel, and passing 
with it beneath and above the water,"* 

Arnold's first manly years were equally characteristic. 
They were full of that sort of restless adventure which 
precluded the steady pursuit of any calling, and especially 
disqualified him for that honest and useful one which he 
at first adopted. He was better suited for the semi- 
contraband trade in the West Indies, than for compound- 
ing drugs behind an apothecary's counter at New Haven. 
Arnold, for a time, was part skipper, commanding a little 
schooner out of New London, and part horsedealer, car- 
rying his live-stock to the French and Spanish islands ; 
o(;casionally relieving the monotony of trade by a duel 
with a Frenchman at one place, and a brawl with a sailor 
at another. It seems, indeed, that our Revolution, at its 
outset, required all sorts of agencies, all sorts of men, to 
set the ball in motion ; not only the sedate and practical 
wisdom of Washington, the shrewd sagacity of Franklin, 
the high cultivation of men of scholarship, like Adams 
and Otis, the self-taught and well-poised intelligence of 
Greene, (the most brilliant and meritorious of young 
America's soldiers,) but it needed too the boasting, irre- 
gular, adventurous energy of Arnold ; and accordingly, 
the moment that the musket-shots at Concord echoed 
through New England, he was in the field, mustering liis 
little Norwich company, and ready to march any where 
that fighting was to be found. On the 2d May, 1775, 

* Sparks's Life of Arnold, p. 5. 



FORT TICONDEROGA. 



247 



iittle more than a fortnight after the battle of Lexington, 
and as long before that of Bunker Hill, Arnold was a pro- 
vincial colonel, and on his march to Ticonderoga. In 
about a week, having overtaken Ethan Allen's party of 
Green Mountain boys, who threatened to gather the 
honours of the first assault, he was at the fort ; and, on the 
10th May, the garrison was surprised and taken, " in the 
name of the Great Jehovah and the continental Congress." 
What strange and picturesque associations hover around 
this old Ticonderoga Fort! It has seen more bloody 
fighting, more chequered military results, more of the 
romance of warfare, than any spot in North America. It 
is, or rather — for in this matter-of-fact atmosphere of ours 
the venerable and picturesque has no chance — it ought to 
be a classic spot. The scene of French and Indian war- 
fare, pf the prowess of Amherst and of Howe, of Dieskau 
and Montcalm, it became at the beginning and continued 
to the end of the revolutionary war a fighting-ground 
where blood was spilled like water, which each combatant 
seemed able to conquer, but neither to retain. The con- 
quest of it by Ethan Allen and Arnold, in 1775, was a 
striking event in those stirring times. Extreme and pain- 
ful was the astonishment with which the British military 
authorities in Canada learned of this close defiance — for it 
is probable that Sir Guy Carleton, at his headquarters at 
Quebec, heard of the fall of Ticonderoga before he knew 
of the skirmish at Lexington. He was destined to 
have a more startling surprise when, a few months later, 
one of the conquerors of Ticonderoga penetrated the Ken- 
nebec wilderness, and showed himself, at the head of a 
band of daring adventurers, before the castle of St. Louis. 
It was, however, to Great Britain, her ministers and gene- 
rals, the day of wonders. 

No sooner had the Fort surrendered, than Arnold, with 
characteristic energy, and with that restlessness of authority 
which marked his whole life, organized a sort of separate 



248 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

commaiicl, and equipped a naval armament on Lake 
Champlain. In this, he rendered efficient service, scou- 
ring the hike from one end to the other ; and, by the ra- 
pidity of movement — for he seemed every where at once — 
holding in check any advancing parlies of the enemy, 
and terrifying into inaction the scattered loyalist inhabit- 
ants. But here, as ever, Arnold's evil genius disturbed 
a career of usefulness and trium[)h. Altercations arose, 
questions of pecuniary accountability were agitated ; jea- 
lousies of precedence alienated him from his companions in 
arms, especially from Allen, whose puritan peculiarities 
were, it may be conceded, far from consonant with Ar- 
nold's audacious freedom of thought, and language, and 
action, and the result, as might liave been foreseen, was 
that, from his first as from his last command, from Ticon- 
deroga in 1775, as from Philadelphia in 1779, Arnold re- 
tired an embittered and vindictive man. He repaired at 
once to Washington's camp, at Cambridge, and there so- 
licited active service. And for a service which the com- 
mander-in-chief then had in view, he was exactly the 
man. 

The reader is aware that a wilderness march and an 
attack from an unexpected quarter, and at an unusual 
season on the Canadian posts, was then contemplated and 
was soon matured. Its story of romance is well-known, 
and need not here be repeated. It is a tale of heroic 
adventure which is best told when simply told ; and 
there are contemporary records which narrate the story 
with clear and eloquent fideliiy. No words of praise 
are too strong for this exploit. Dangers were surmount- 
ed and privations endured from which the peaceful 
mind recoils; and it was done with cheerfulness and 
alacrity, without murmur or complaint. But one man 
retreated ; and his name has been ever since disgraced. 
Arnold, and Christopher Greene, and Morgan, and Meigs, 
and Bigelow were always in advance; and such leaders, 



MARCH TO POINT LEVI. 24^ 

SO full of dashing enterprise, the men were proud to fol- 
low. If the news of an invasion from the clouds had 
reachfd tlie British commanders, they could not have been 
more amazed than they were when the deserter Indiai. 
^Eneas brought them word that a Rebel army — for so, no 
doubt, the savage dignified Arnold's liitle band — was 
coming down the cascades of the Chaudiere in rafts and 
batteaux, having reached it through a trackless wilderness 
which no feet had trod but those of the Indian hunter and 
his victims, the elk and the moose.* In a day or two after 
the news was first whispered, the American flag was seen 
on Point Levi; and before this surprise was well over, the 
Rebel forces were drawn up in such array as their poor 
numbers justified, on the Plains of Abraham, Wolfe's 
bright career and glorious victory were then fresh in 
memory ; and it seems to have been Arnold's pride — and 
it was a worthy one — to tread in his footsteps. He 
crossed, as Wolfe did, from Point Levi to the cove, led his 
untutored soldiers up the same wild path, and sought a 
battle on the spot where, seventeen years before, Wolfe had 
died in the arms of victory. Happy would it have been 
for him if he had thus died, and, like Montgomery, been 
mourned as the nation's first child. 

No sooner did Sir (Juy Carleton, then at Montreal 
watching the danger from above, hear of the unexpected 
approach of the Americans to Quebec, than he hastened to 
its relief. Leaving his flotilla above the batteries which 
the provincials had hastily constructed at Sorel, he em- 
barked in the night in a small armed vessel, and at immi- 



• « There are," says an English letter writer from Quebec, " about 
^ve hundicil provincials arrived at Point Levi, liy the way of the Chau- 
diere, across the woods. Surely, a miracle must have been wrouf^ht in 
their favour. It is an undertaking above the common race of men, in 
this debauched age. They have travelled through woods and bogs, and 
over precipice.-i, for the space of one hundred and twenty miles, attended 
with every inconvenience and dilFicuIty, to be surmounted only by men 
of iiulefatigable zeal and industry." Almon vol. ii p. 130. 



250 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

nent risk of capture, passed down the river. There was 
rich i*nd noble freight, it may be noted, in this boat. Not 
only did it carry the governor-general and some members 
of his family, but with them was Lord Chatham's young 
son, an olHcer in the 47th British regiment, and attached 
to General Carleton's statf. To the American reader the 
career of this young man has peculiar interest. Though it 
opened brightly to him, with all the advantages of patron- 
age and place, it was abruptly terminated by his father's 
resolute determination, for which, as all else he did, Ame- 
rica ought to reverence his memory, boldly announcing, 
that no son of his should bear arms in the cause of tyranny, 
or against his oppressed fellow-subjects. In February, 
1776, Lady Chatham wrote in her husband's name to Sir 
Guy Carleton, peremptorily withdrawing his son from a 
service which though that of his sovereign, he considered 
unworthy of his countenance.* 

On the day that Carleton reached Quebec, Arnold had 
retired to Point aux Trembles, and there awaited General 
Montgomery's arrival from above. On the 1st of Decem- 
ber Montgomery took command. It was high time; 
for Arnold had on more occasions than one displayed 
his utter incapacity for the direction of affairs, or what 
may be called generalship. The moment that mere 
adventure and its necessities ceased, Arnold lost the con- 
fidence and regard of the officers and men. A gallant 
witness of one of his outbursts of vain folly has thus de- 
scribed it: "Arnold had the boldness, you might say the 
audacity, or still more correctly, the folly, to draw us up 
in a line, in front and opposite to the wall of the city. The 
parapet was lined by hundreds of gaping citizens and sol- 
diers, whom our guns could not harm, because of the dis- 
tance. They gave us a huzza ! We returned it, and re- 
mained a considerable time huzzaing, and spend ng our 

• (Jhatham Correspondence, vol. iv, p. A'^li, 



HIS FOLLY AT QUEBEC. 25i 

powder against the walls, for we harmed no one. Some 
of our men to the right, under the cover of something like 
ancient ditches and hillocks, crept forward within two hun- 
dred yards of the works, but their firing was disregarded 
by the enemy as farcical. Febiger, who was a real and 
well instructed soldier, and engineer, did advance singly 
within a hundred paces, and pored with the eye of an 
adept. Daring all this, as my station in the line happened 
to be on a mound, a few feet higher than the common 
level of the plain, it was perceptible through the embra- 
sures that there was a vast bustle within. In some mi- 
nutes a thirty-six pounder was let loose upon us ; but so 
ill was the gun pointed, that the ball fell short, or passed 
high over our heads. Another, and another succeeded — • 
to these salutes, we gave them all we could, another and 
another huzza. It must be confessed, that this ridiculous 
aflfair gave me a contemptible opinion of Arnold. This 
notion was by no means singular. Morgan, Febiger, and 
other officers, who had seen service, did not hesitate to 
speak of it in that point of view."* 

The same writer has thus described the exhilaration pro- 
duced by Montgomery's arrival : " On the first of Decem- 
ber, General Montgomery, who was anxiously expected, 
arrived. Arnold's corps was paraded in front of the 
chapel. It was lowering and cold, but the appearance of 
the general here, gave us warmth and animation. He 
was well limbed, tall, and handsome, though his face was 
much pock-marked. His air and manner designated the 
real soldier. He made us a short, but energetic and ele- 
gant speech, the burden of which, was an applause of 
our spirit in passing the wilderness ; a hope, our persever 
ance in that spirit would continue ; and a promise of warm 
clothing; the latter was a most comfortable assurance. A 
few huzzas from our freezing bodies were returned to this 

• Henry's Narrative. 



252 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

address of the gallant hero. Now new life was infuseo 
into the whole of the corps." 

The pleasure-seeking traveller, who, at this day 
under ihe bright efTulgence of a summer sun, looks 
from the ramparts of the great citadel of Quebec on the 
beautiful landscape before him, can scarcely realize the 
contrast of the winter horrors of the same scene, or the 
perils of the wild adventure which the new year's night 
of 1776 there witnessed. The attempt to storm Quebec 
by the /Vmericans has no parallel in the history of despe- 
rate warfare. Wolfe's time of adventure ceased when he 
scaled the cliff and dispersed the Serjeant's guard on the 
heights. Afier that it was plain and gallant fighting, on a 
magnificent field of battle, under a bright autumnal, or 
rather summer sun, and with no warfare of elements to en- 
counter. He had with him regular troops — the picked 
men of the British army, veterans of Prince Ferdinand and 
Cumberland. He had a fleet at hand to rescue him, and 
a government (no slight incentive) at home to reward him 
living, and to honour and mourn over him dead. The 
American leader's signal for attack was the snow storm of 
Canadian midwinter. There was three feet of hard frozen 
snow upon the ground, piercing the bloody feet of the rebel 
soldiers, and the moment fixed for advance against the 
stone redoubts of the city, was when the moon should be 
overcast, and a drifting snow begin. The men from whom 
this terrible duty was exacted, were youths from the plough, 
untutored in the art of war, undisciplined by military ex- 
perience ; dressed in hunting-shirts, unprovided against 
the climate, and with no arms but such as the chase snp- 
plied. They and their leaders were fighting in a cause 
which to them looked as gloomily as did that winter 
night. Victory would bring no immediate or substantial 
honours or reward, neither rank of service, nor pension, 
nor title ; and death's only recompense would be an acci- 
dental grave due to the kindness of a generous eneray. 



ATTACK ON QUEBEC. 253 

(for such throughout was Carleton) and the slow remem 
brance of those for whom life was to be sacrificed.* There 
was not for them either "Peerage or Westminster Abbey." 
The American reader has a right to be proud of (he contrast, 
and this too without a thought or word of vulgar dispa- 
ragement of England's gallant rnen. Montgomery had 
been one of Wolfe's otHcers, in 1759, and we may imagine 
that in the wild darkness of the winter assault, his mind's 
eye may have been cheered by a bright vision of glory of 
the past, and that the thought of Wolfe's glory led on- 
ward Wolfe's young captain in a nobler and better cause. 
Montgomery, at the head of about seven hundred men, 
advanced along the river bank, whilst Arnold at the same 
moment attempted and carried the suburb of St. Roque. 
Montgomery's march was by a narrow defile, with a sharp 
descent to the water's edge on one side, and the scarped 
rock of the fortress on the other. They soon reached a point 
called Pres de Ville. A battery of three pounders charged 
with grape had been placed here, in charge of a small 
party of Canadian militia and seamen. At daybreak one 
of these men discovered in the dusk of the morning, a 
body of troops in full advance. The alarm was instantly 
given, but the assailants were allowed unmolested to ap- 
proach within a short distance. The Americans halted for 
a moment, and an officer came forward to reconnoitre, very 
near the battery. After listening for a moment, all being 
still and apparently unguarded, the scout returned with 
his report, and the column with Montgomery and his aids 
at its head, dashed forward at double quick time to the 
attack. At this moment the British artillerymen fired their 
pieces in rapid succession. The assaulting troops recoiled 
in confusion, nothing was heard but the groans of the 
svounded and dying, and, nothing certain being known 
within the lines, the pass continued to be swept by the 

• It was nearly half a century after Montgomery's death when perma- 
nent honour was dono to his memory. 

Vol. I. 22 



254 n !•: n k n i c t a r n o l d. 

canncii and musketry, for the space of ten minutes. Th« 
next n>Drnini5 thirteen bodies were found in the snow. On 
the retreat of the Americans, a young ollicer of Canadian 
volunteers visited tlie scene of carnage; and there he 
found, lying frozen on the ground, his arm extended 
towards Quebec, one whom he had known at college in 
the mother country and pointed him out as the American 
general. The young English soKlior was afterwards one 
of the most eminent jurists of Great Britain.* 

Arnold's attack on the other side of the town was so 
far successful that his party penotrated near to ;he Palace 
Gate ; but there, being severely wounded in the leg, he 
was obliged to retire to the rear, and his troops, after a 
severe loss in killed and prisoners, and a desperate attempt 
by Morgan, who, on ArnoUrs wound, was in command, to 
push farther on, were obliged to retreat. Thus ended in 
disaster the memorable attack on Quebec. The rest of 
the winter's tale was that of strict and uninteresting block- 
ade — neither besiegers nor besiegetl being willing or able 
to attempt any offensive movement. Generals Wooster 
and Sullivan successively assumed the American com- 
mand, Arnold being in great measure disabled by his 
wound. The spring of 1776 witnessed a series of dis- 
comfitures on the part of the Americans ; and later in the 
season the total evacuation of the Canadian provinces, 
and the advance across the lines, by the way of St. Johns 
and Isle aux Noix, of a well-apppointed British army, 
under General Burgoyne. Throughout the campaign thus 
closing, the candid and careful inquirer cannot fad being 
struc^k not merely with Arnold's spirit and enterprise, but 
with the fact that no single moment of tranquil administration 
passed without some dark imputation on his discretion or 
his integrity. His violence was uncontrollable. He chal- 
lenged the members of a court-martial to fight him. He 

* Sir William Grant See Life of Lord Sidmoutli, rol. i. p. litk 



CONFLICT WITH THE BRITISH FLEET. 255 

seized goods by force, and insolently refused to account for 
them. He seetned here, as every where, to have an invinci- 
ble propensity to take other people's property ; and here, as 
after\yards in Philadelphia, he seemed strangely insensible 
in his rapacity to the distinction between friend and foe 
Here, as Mr. Sparks justly says, was the first link of the 
^hain which finally dragged him down to ruin. 

The admirers of Arnold have a right to refer with plea- 
sure to that bright period of his life which dates from the 
evacuation of Canada in 1776, to the battle of Behraus's 
Heights in October, 1777. It was crowded with ex- 
ploits of romantic courage — some of ihem so desperately 
daring as to justify a doubt whether, in the excitement of 
the battle-field, Arnold was a sane man. This was emi- 
nently the case in his final exploit at Saratoga. But no 
man could have behaved with more gallantry than he did 
on these occasions. The reader who can study the nar- 
rative of his conduct in the flotilla command of 1776, and 
his fierce conflict with the British fleet, without a thrill of 
pride and a pang at the thought that such a man could 
become a mercenary traitor, need not be envied. The 
closing scene of this naval campaign is worthy of especial 
commemoration. Paul Jones or Decatur never fought a 
more desperate fight than this. On a small scale, and not 
the less fraught with danger on that account, it may be 
compared with any affair of modern warfare. Its details 
are known to every reader, and justify a discriminating 
biographer's remark, "that there are few instances on re- 
cord of more deliberate courage and gallantry than were 
displayed by him, from the beginning to the end of this ac- 
tion."* Here it it was, that another of those strange juxta- 
positions occurred, which the personal history of men 
of widely different aims and fate sometimes exhibits. The 
late Lord Exmouth,t the conqueror of Algiers, then Lieute 

• Sparks's Biography, 79. t Life of ExraoutL 



256 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

nant P^'llew of the Royal navy, was the person who boarded 
Arnold's vessel after he had abandoned it, and accidentally 
missed making him prisoner. Ha{)py, may it not again 
be said, would it have been for Arnold, had he then, with 
his fame unsullied, fallen into the hands of an honourable 
foe! 

Again, at Danbury, where, on his return from the North 
he happened 'to be, did he appear to great advantage in 
resisting the attack of I'ryon and his marauders, and bear- 
ing from the field the body of the gallant Wooster. It 
was a day full of unadulterated renown for Arnold, a day 
of battle, of close hand to hand coniiici, without an in- 
terval of safety or repose in which latent and invincible 
evil instincts could be developed. Such, indeed, was the 
fame here earned, and which no one begrudged, that 
Congress, who had hesitated so long and perhaps so wise- 
ly — for Congress, knew him well — on his claims of rank, 
and were scrutinizing closely his perplexed and irregu- 
lar accounts, hesitated no longer ; but giving him his 
coveted rank, and special distinctions beside, sent him 
with a major-general's commission, to join the northern 
army of Generals Schuyler and St. Clair. 

It is the fashion of the times to condemn the course 
which, on this and another occasion, presently to be al- 
luded to, Congress pursued with regard to Arnold. It 
certainly irritated Washington, who, being himself in the 
field in active service and being annoyetl with much that 
was imbecile, had a very soldierly admiration of Arnold's 
dashing courage. Adventurous enterprise had especial 
charms for Washington, who, by temperament, was far 
from a cautious soldier ; and it fretted him to see a de- 
liberative body doling out its reluctant praises for what, to 
him, seemed so admirable. But looking fo the result, to 
the conclusive development of Arnold's true character, at 
the end, his unquestioned incapacity even at the begin- 
ning, to do more than fight, his utter want, not only oi 



HIS JEALOUSY. 257 

^dm>;»sttaiive talent, but of integrity, are we not bound to 
think that there was in some members of Congress a far- 
reachmg sagacity which saw through the glittering renown 
which mere military prowess gives, and prevented at least 
the precipitate gift of honours and rewards ; which saw, 
from the beginning, that Arnold was a brave bad man — a 
man not to be trusted. Congress, or its majority, to our 
mind, appears to greater advantage in its cautious de- 
meanour to Arnold, in 1777, in promoting Lincoln, and 
St. Clair, and Stirling, all true-hearted men, as brave 
though not so reckless as Arnold, and far more honest, 
than it did wlit^n, two years later, it espoused his cause, 
and sustained a secret traitor in an unworthy squabble 
with state authorities. Besides, in this false sympathy 
with Arnold's wrongs, let it be remembered that when, at 
last, he became a traitor, he had all he coveted — rank, 
honour, sinecure ; and yet was base enough to sacrifice 
them all, according to the theory of his apologists, to 
secret vengeance for an ancient wronsf. Who then should 
say that Congress ever did him injustice by a wise and 
provident caution? 

Arnold reached the northern army before General Gates 
took command, and was employed by Schuyler, who 
seems to have had a precise estimate of his merits, in 
several distant enterprises on the Hudson and Mohawk. 
No sooner did the new commander-in-chief arrive, than 
difficulty arose, and jealousy was aroused that never after 
was quieted. General Gates was a man of peculiar habits 
of mind and conduct, and with little or none of that 
practical wisdom which enabled Washington to move on 
harmoniously with men of all sorts of tempers and dispo- 
sitions. An adult European soldier, he came to this 
country with professional notions and prejudices which 
could not be overcome, and he was the last man in the 
world to tolerate Arnold's swaggering brutality of manner 
or insolence of deportment. Perhaps less creditable in- 

22* R 



258 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

flfiences and antipathies operated, and he was jealous of 
the rising fame of his dashing subordinate. It is very 
manifest that the misunderstanding was productive of 
injury to the public cause, and might have led to disas- 
trous results but for the infatuation of the British com- 
manders, which led them, step by step, in a course of 
disaster, till rescue and escape became impracticable. 
Competent military judges have thought that had Arnold 
not been interfered with, at the first skirmish near Behmus's 
Heights, there would have been a defeat, instead of an 
ultimate capitulation of the English army. In the second 
battle, on the 7th of October, it may safely be said there 
is nothing more painfully grotesque in our history than the 
spectacle of a second in command riding, contrary to 
orders, like a madman to the field of battle, brandishing 
his sword close to the enemy's guns, literally at the can- 
non's mouth, striking his own fellow-officers, and at last 
falling, as was thought, fatally wounded on a field of vic- 
tory which his very audacity had contributed to gain. 
"He exposed himself," says Wilkinson — no very favour- 
able witness by-the-by — "with great folly and temerity 
at the time we were engaged front to front with the Ger- 
mans ; and, w^hilst he was flourishing his sword and en- 
couraging the troops, he, in a state of furious distraction, 
struck an officer on the head, and wounded him; the first 
impulse of the officer was to shoot him, for which purpose 
be raised his fusee ; but, recollecting himself, he was about 
to remonstrate, when Arnold darted off to another part of 
the field. Soon after this incident, finding himself on our 
right, he dashed to the left through the fire of the two 
lines, and escaped unhurt; he then turned the right of the 
enemy, and, collecting fifteen or twenty riflemen, threw 
himself with this party into the rear of the enemy just as 
they gave way, when his leg was broke and his horse 
killed under him." 

Tne wound tnus madly gained made Arnold a cripple 



SECRET MERCANTILE PARTNERSHIP. 259 

for life, and with this sharp scene, Burgoyne's army sur 
rendering immediately after, he closed his active life as an 
American soldier. At this moment, with all his faults, 
such is the bright hue which surrounds every act of much 
personal daring, no man stood higher in popular favour. 

We approach now the last chapter of Arnold's strange 
career, dating it from the time he assumed the command 
at Philadelphia. Proud of his honourable wound, he 
reached the camp at Valley Forge at the moment when the 
news of the French alliance was received, and the enemy 
were preparing to evacuate the city. On the 17th of 
June, 1778, the British crossed the Delaware, and the 
same day the exiled Americans returned to their homes. 
Arnold was put in command by Washington, and at once 
entered on his delicate and responsible duties. Never was 
a man less suited to his trust. Washington's letter of in- 
structions, dated the 19th of June, seems to limit his du- 
ties to mere matters of necessary police, in the transition 
state in which the city necessarily was on the departure of 
the enemy, and before the restoration of the regular authori- 
ties. But Arnold was not to be thus controlled. The in- 
vincible instinct of his nature must have indulgence, and 
here in a disturbed community, with business relation^ 
unsettled, was a fitting occasion. W^ithin three days after 
he took command, he entered into a secret mercantile 
partnership, and regularly executed a contract in the fol- 
lowing words: 

""Whereas, by purchasing goods and necessaries for the 
use of the public, sundry articles not wanted for that pur- 
pose may be obtained : It is agreed by the subscribers that 
all such goods and merchandise which are or may be 
bought by the clothier-general or persons appointed by him, 
shall be sold for the joint equal benefit of the subscribers, 
and be purchased at their risk. Witness our hands this 
22d day of June, 1778. 

B. Arnold, Etc 



'260 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

It was signed by two other individuals, to whora i:io 
especial blame attaches except so far as they connived a 
the glaring misconduct on the part of the commanding ge- 
neral. For a military man to promote his personal and 
pecuniary advantage at the expense of a conquered enemy 
is bad enough, but what shadow of excuse can there be 
for such conduct to friends and fellow-countrymen, who 
were just recovering from the ravages and spoliations of a 
foreign foe! This secret bargain was but the first of a long 
series of official delinquencies, w^hich were at last detected 
and exposed by the local authorities. Those who find in 
what they call the persecution by the Pennsylvania execu- 
tive, a pretext or apology for Arnold's treason, would do 
well to look farther back and find it in that course of secret 
and necessarily disastrous trading adventure, which had 
its origin in a contract for a secret purchase of public stores 
and clothing. 

But other influences were at work to precipitate his 
downfall. There was at this period a strange and pestilent 
social atmosphere in the American metropolis. Philadel- 
phia had been the seat of proprietary influence, in whose 
sunshine had grown up a sort of aristocracy, in its little 
sphere, of the most exclusive kind. It was not entirely 
disaffected. So far from it that many leading whigs, mi- 
litary and civil officers, shared its sympathies, and, what 
is more to be deplored, its intense antipathies. A party 
question had also arisen in Pennsylvania which attracted 
and promoted the most bitter animosities. The constitu- 
tion of 1776, framed in the midst of the first excitement 
of the war, was liable to many speculative objections, and 
piiblic feeling, especially in Philadelphia, was much di- 
vided on the subject. The heat was revived in full ani- 
mation on the return of the Americans, and all the disaf- 
fected without exceptioii, those who owed their lives and 
property to the forbearance of the constitutionid authorities, 
threw themselves into the ranks of the adverse party. A 



EXCITEMENT IN PHILADELPHI/iL. 261 

disafTected aristocracy, and an exasperated party opposi- 
tion, formed a most dangerous and iroublesome combina- 
tion. The local government was actually defied. The 
authorities were told they did not dare to execute the laws, 
and when at last two notorious abettors of treason were 
brought to punishment, and others of a still higher rank in 
society were threatened, there was a perfect howl of exas- 
peration, a chorus in which party prejudice and treacherous 
sympathies mingled their accents strangely. To join the 
enemy, to hold a British commission, to waylay the Ame- 
rican leaders, to feed and aid and comfort an invading 
enemy, to co-operate in the burning of houses and de- 
struction of property, for every house near the British lines 
was ruthlessly devastated — all these were venial offences 
for which any penalty was too severe, and those who ac- 
cording to the forms of law contributed to assert the public 
rights, whether as judges, or jurymen, or counsel, were 
branded as butchers and murderers. Carlisle and Roberts 
are still, we believe, saints and martyrs of the canon of 
treason. 

During the whole of this period of excitement, Arnold's 
command continued, and, to the delight of all whose an- 
tipathies have been thus described, he threw himself into 
the ranks of the local opposition. It was a perfect God- 
send to the leaders of faction and fomentors of disaffection, 
to have the continental commandant on their side, and 
mingled with the complaints of local oppression, was fer- 
vent and ecstatic praise of his gallantry and his sacrifices. 
Fashion, the most vulgar and intolerant of tyrants, shut its 
sanctioning eyes to Arnold's lowly birth and the rudeness 
of his early calling, and the heroines of the Meschianza 
smiled with gracious condescension on the New London 
horsedealer. All they asked in return for this favour, was 
that he should unite with them and theirs in denunciation 
ot the local authorities, and in sarcasms on the sturdy in- 
tegrity of the constitutional whigs. Arnold ha 1 motives 



262 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

enough for this sort of affiliation. Not only was his vanity 
flattered, but his heart — if heart he had — was touched by 
the kind consideration with which he was treated. He 
soon courted and married one of the brightest of the belles 
of the Meschianza — on whom beauty and toryism were 
equally distinguished — nor was this all. Arnold's pecu- 
niary necessities, the fruit of frustrated schemes and spe- 
culations, led him naturally to those who had the means, 
and might, if he courted them, have the inclination to re- 
lieve him. The wealth of Philadelphia was altogether on 
fhe tory side. The few acts of confiscation into which the 
new government had been goaded, left abundant and well 
mvested wealth in the hands of the disaffected. Arnold 
played his game accordingly, and in less than two months, 
cheered onward by his new confederates, tempted by his 
own instincts of wrong, he was involved in a fierce con- 
flict with the local authorities — busy at his work of insolent 
defiance, and grateful for the applause his abettors be- 
stowed, and the wages which, in all probability, he was 
mean enough to accept. For a time and till the govern- 
ment was permanently and securely reorganized by the 
installation of a new executive, Arnold seemed to have the 
best of the squabble. 

But in November, 1778, General Reed being unani- 
mously elected President of the state, the game of faction 
was suddenly blocked. Reed brought to his new duty not 
only talent of a high order, but military experience gained 
by the side of Washington, thorough knowledge and ap- 
preciation of the precise line which separates the different 
functions of public service, and a resolute determination 
of purpose, that could be neither overcome nor circura- 
\ented. He was full of resources, and had an aptitude to 
meet exigencies which has rarely been equalled. He had 
besides the respect and confidence of all parties, for though 
opposed in theory to the new constitution, he thought 
chanore and amendment should be postponed till the raoM 



SENTENCED TO BE REPRIMANDED. 263 

urgent necessities of the war were over. Of course in thus 
claiming for General Reed on his accession th confidence 
of all, the notoriously disaffected are excepted. They and 
Iheir connexions hated him with inveterate hate. Against 
the power and ability of such an executive, Arnold and 
his abettors struggled in vain. Neither their obloquy nor 
their blandishments availed to turn aside the course of 
justice thus administered. In vain did Arnold send mes- 
sages of insult and defiance to the council ; in vain did he 
affect to despise, as too minute for notice, the charges pre- 
ferred against him — merely '< the giving a pass to a trading 
enemy, and using public wagons for private uses;" in 
vain did he invoke the authority of Congress, a portion of 
whose members as if to expiate past neglect espoused his 
cause ; in vain did he cite the high authority of George 
Clinton and Jay, and, by misquoting his opinions, bring 
the name of Washington to his support. Mr. Reed and 
the council persevered in asserting the majesty of the law, 
forced Congress, though deeply infected by faction, to 
listen, and to grant an inquiry ; and at last convinced a 
court of iVrnold's fellow-soldiers that it was their duty to 
sentence him to be reprimanded for offences, the nature of 
which were illustrative of the peddling nature of his evil 
passions. Arnold's rage knew no bounds, and there is no 
where to be found a more characteristic memorial of his 
character, than in the arrogant and defamatory defence, 
well known to the historical student, which he made be- 
fore the court-martial. Snatching any weapon of calumny 
that happened to be at hand, he madly hurled it at his ac- 
cusers, and seemed to think it was defence enough for 
him to praise himself and slander others. 

Thus passed more than a year in altercation in public, 
and wild and daring commercial speculations in private. 
Disappointment and disaster attended both. Disgrace, as 
we have seen, was the fruit of his political broils ; whilst 
bankruptcy, and necessity that could no longer be evaded 



264 B B: N E D I C T ARNOLD. 

or trifled wilh, followed close on the footsteps of pecuniary 
adventure. The spring and summer of 1779 found Arnold 
a hopelessly ruined man ; and then it was that the spirit of 
evil, always vigilant of its victim's moment of extremity, 
\vhisj)ered to his susceptible mind the suggestion of lucra- 
tive treason. Not such treason as led Coriolanus, or 
the Constable of Bourbon, to fight against his country — 
not such as tempted Warwick or Percy, the treason that 
finds excuse in wounded pride or insulted honour; Ar- 
nold's was none of these, but it was one of the coarsest 
quality. It was nothing more than mercenary, money- 
making treason ; and if the council of Pennsylvania had 
been his friends and not his accuser — if they had been 
willing to wink at his oppression, and submit to his insults, 
the result would have precisely been the same. 

For the sake of human nature, pitiable in its slow yield- 
ing to temptation, it may be hoped that .Vrnold did not 
submit to these promptings of despair without a struggle. 
His application for pecuniary relief to the French minister, 
seems to show this. He was more willing to degrade 
himself before the representative of a friendly power, than 
to barter away his country and his own character to an 
enemy. He preferred begging alms from Luzerne, to 
tradinji:, with the feart\d risks of such a tratfic, with Sir 
Henry Clinton. But when the calm admonition of the 
French envoy repelUul him, no avenue seemed open save 
that which led him to the enemy. He had, let it be re- 
membered^ no domestic security for doing right — no fire- 
side guardianship to protect him from the tempter. Re- 
jecting, as we do utterly, the theory that his wife was the 
instigator of his crime — all common principles of human 
action being opposed to it — we still believe that there was 
nothing in her inlluence or associations to countervail the 
persuasions to which he ultimately yielded. She was 
young, and gay, and tVivoIous; fond of ilisplay and admira 
tion, and used to luxury, she was utterly unfiited for the 



COUUESPONDENCE WITH ANDRE. 2G5 

duties and privations of a poor man's wife. A loyalist's 
cJaiigliler, she had been taught to inourn over even tlie 
poor pageantry of colonial rank and authority, and to re- 
collect with [)leasure the pomp of those brief days of en- 
joyment, when nuli;ary men of noble station were ner ad- 
mirers. yVrnold had no counsellor on his pillow to urge 
him to the imitation of homely repid)lican virtue, to stimu- 
late him to follow the ruggcui path of a revolutionary 
patriot. He fell, and though his wife did not tempt or 
counsel him to ruin, there is no reason to think she ever 
utlered a word or made a sign to deter him. 

Arnold began his correspondence with Major Andre 
about the monih of April, 1779. Andre had been in 
Philadelphia whilst the British army had possession of the 
city, and was well ac(piaiuted with the Shippen family, 
into which Arnold married. Thoufjjh feigned names were 
used in this correspondence, " Gustavus" by Arnold, and 
"John Anderson" by Andre, it is certain that the corres- 
pondents knew each other. The intermediate agent to 
whose care the letters were intrusted, was a refugee clergy- 
man, of the name of Odell, who, no doubt, well knew 
she American correspondent; whilst throughout Andre was 
writing in an undisguised hand to Mrs. Arnold, thus en- 
abling Arnold, who would probably see his wife's letters, 
to know who "John Anderson" was. The real design 
was covered by the pretext of a mercantile correspond- 
ence. So long as Arnold remained on duty at Philadel- 
phia, though he was able, from time to time, to send such 
scraps of intelligence as he gained in his correspondence 
with Washington, he was hardly worth the purchasing ; 
and Sir Henry Clinton seemed to hold back, and to show 
n;» > ery great anxiety to burden himself with one pensioner 
more, or to pay much for the bargain which was offered to 
him. They had paid dearly enough fi)r Galloway, in 
1777. In order, therefore, to ap})reciale himself in the 
market, Arnold found it necessary to secure some new and 

Vol. I. 23 



26G BENEDICT ARNCLU. 

kmporfanl (rust ; and his mind seems early to have been 
directed to ihe command at West Point. He directed all 
his energies and all his powers of intrigue, to this object. 
His partisans in Congress, and his friends in the army, 
many of whom persuaded themselves that he was an in- 
jured man, seconded his wishes; and at last, though witii 
obvious reluctance, General Washington yielded to their 
importunity, and directed him to take charge of the garri- 
son at the Point, or, in other words, of the posts on the 
line of the Hudson river, of which, in military language, 
West Point was the key. Arnold took charge of the post 
in the beginning of August. The moment this occurred, 
Sir Henry Clinton felt that at any cost he was worth se- 
curing, and a new and more direct interest was felt in the 
traitor's correspondence. 

Pausing here one moment, let us ask, is not the retro- 
spect painful beyond expression, of th.e successful simula- 
tion which this wicked man was practising, and of the 
ready credulity with which words of defamation from his 
lips against the truest patriots of the country once were 
listened to. " General Washington and the officers of 
the army," Arnold wrote, " bitterly execrate Mr. Reed 
and his council for their villanous attempt to injure me."* 
<< Conscious of my innocence,^^ said he, in his defence be 
fore the court-martial — and one may wonder that the 
calumny did not palsy his tongue — " conscious of my own 
innocence, and of the unworthy methods taken to injure 
me, I can with boldness say to my persecutors in general, 
and the chief of them in particular, that, in the hour of 
danger, when the aflairs of America wore a gloomy aspect. 



• On the discovery of his treason, Wasliington thus nailed this false 
hiod to the writer. "I cannot," he wrote, " suflbr myself to delay a 
moment in pronouncing that if Arnold (in his letter to his wife — ' I am 
treated witvi the greatest iioliteness by Gt'ncral Washington and the 
officers of the army, vvho bitterly execrate Mr. Reed and his council fa? 
their villanous attempt to injure me,') meant to comprcluMul me in the 
Utter part of the expression, that he asserted an absolute falsuhoud." 



AT WEST POINT. 267 

when our illustrious general was retreating wiih a handful 
of men, I did not propose to my associates to quit him, and 
sacrifice the cause of my country to ray personal safety, by 
going over to the enemy, and making ray peace." And 
then he would go to his secret chamber, and write to Sir 
Henry Clinton, and plan the traffic of treason on which his 
soul was bent. And then, too, there were those who 
listened with greedy ears to his slanders, applauded his 
boastful arrogance, and, in the heat of passion and preju- 
dice, were willing to sacrifice the hard-earned fame of 
patriot men to his malignity. The sympathy which Ar- 
nold, in the midst of his treasonable correspondence, was 
able to command in Philadelphia, is one of the most singu- 
lar and least creditable incidents of those trying times. 
There must have been many a burning blush, and many a 
downcast eye, when the news burst on the community 
which had fondled and flattered Arnold in his hour of 
pride and triumph, that their favourite had deserted to the 
British. 

But to return to the now impending catastrophe. Ar- 
nold's first care on arriving at West Point, was to put him- 
self in more direct communication with the British com- 
mander-in-chief. Mysterious correspondence, with its 
jargon of "invoices" and "shipments," and "debtor and 
creditor," would answer no longer. He accordingly took 
measures to solicit an interview with some accredited agent 
of the enemy. This was not easy. Washington was on 
the spot inspecting the posts, and taking deliberate mea- 
sures with his most experienced counsellors for an offensive 
movement against New York, in conjunction with Count 
Rochambeau. Under a calm and imperturbable exierior, 
as Arnold well knew, there was an acute vigilance, and a 
power of penetration before which his guilty spirit quailed. 
Yet even here, with this eye upon him, and wiih that con- 
sciousness of guil; which makes the brave bad man tremble 
and gro V pale, Arnold's nerve sustained him, Once only 



268 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

as we read, did ne show agitation. In crossing one of the 
ferries with Washington and his staff, the Vuhure sloop of 
war was seen at a distance, having on board, as Arnold 
well knew, Colonel Robinson, sent by Sir Henry Clinton 
to meet him. Washington watched the vessel with his 
glass, whilst Lafayette jocularly remarked, that Arnold 
ought to find out what had become of the expected naval 
reinforcement from France, as he had convenient modes 
of intercourse with the enemy. For a moment Arnold lost 
his presence of mind, and made a reply, the intemperance 
of which might have roused suspicions of any other man. 
But Washington entertained none, and the matter dropped. 
The next day (19th September) Washington continued 
his journey to Hartford, and Arnold was left to his unim- 
peded work of villany. His first step was to advise Sir 
Henry Clinton that he would be in attendance under due. 
precautions, the next day, near Dobbs's Ferry, ready to 
meet his messenger. The following hurried letter to a 
forage agent in the neighbourhood, has never before been 
published, and bears date the day that Arnold and Wash- 
ington parted. The autograph indicates hurry and agita- 
tion : 

To Mr. Jefferson^ Fredericksburg^ JV. Y. 

Headquarters, Rob. House, September 19th, 1780. 
Sir, — You will please to pick out of the horses you have 
now in your custody or which you may hereafter receive, 
a pair of the best wagon horses, as also two of the very 
best saddle horses you can find, for ray use. You'll send 
them to me as soon as possible. 

I am, sir, your most obedient servant, 

B. Arnold, M. General* 

On receiving Arnold's message. Sir Henry Clinton at 
once despatched Andre on his fatal and fruitless errand. 

• The orio^inal of this letter is in possession of Edward P. Ingrabnin, 
»3«q., of Philadelphia. 



MEETING WITH ANDRE. 269 

He irrived with all expediiion on board the Vulture, and 
thence, by a letter or some pretext of business, and under 
the well-known name of "John Anderson," advised Ar- 
nold of his presence. The Vulture then lay in the narrow 
channel of the Hudson, close to Dobbs's Ferry, and near 
Tellon's Point; but hour after hour passed without any 
iulelligence from Arnold, and Andre began to despair of 
success in his enterprise. Could the American, after all, 
be trifling wi-ih them.'' was it a cunning device to entrap a 
portion of the British army into some ambuscade in the 
Highland passes? had all the scheming, and secret manage- 
ment and correspondence, been for nothing.'' All these 
were doubts and questions arising in the minds of Andre 
and his fellow-counsellors that night in the cabin of the 
Vulture. Suddenly the sound of approaching oars were 
heard, the rude hail of the sailor on the forecastle watch, 
and, in a few moments, Joshua H. Smith, Arnold's myste- 
rious confidant, whose precise agency in this scheme of 
wickedness has never yet been ascertained, came on 
board, and presented to Colonel Robinson and the naval 
commandant his credentials from x'^rnold, and a written 
request that " the person" should come on shore for the 
purpose of a personal interview. This was a new and 
unlooked for turn of the affair, and some discussion en- 
sued as to what should be done. Andre soon put an end 
to it by announcing his fixed resolution to land, be the 
danger what it might. The game he was playing required 
boldness, and necessarily involved peril of no slight ex- 
tent. Covering his uniform with a close and heavy over- 
coat, he jumped into the boat, which in a few minutes, 
pushed onward by men who felt throughout the danger 
they had run, reached the shore. In the dense under- 
wood, at a short distance from the bank, at the foot of the 
Clove mountain, shrouded in the thickest darkness, Arnold 
and Andre met. 

They met, and talked long and anxiously. The secrets 
23* 



270 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

of that midnight conference never have been revealed. 
With what feelings they must have listened to each 
other's whispers, in the darkness of that hour! The 
young Englishman anxious, confident, and careless of any 
consequence but failure in his enterprise ; looking forward 
to a career of usefulness and distinction, to be begun by a 
great resuh : the American, brave enough in the field of 
battle, but worse than a coward in the progress of a plan 
like this, starting at every sound that broke the stillness of 
the hour, and whispering his details of treason, and bar- 
tering away for money the rich honours of a past career. 
His future, in any event, was heavily clouded. Whilst 
the conference was in progress, they were interrupted by 
an intimation from Smith that his boat's crew were be- 
coming impatient, and that daylight,, near at hand, would 
oblige them to remove from a situation so exposed. Thus 
disturbed in their incomplete arrangements, Andre was 
persuaded to consent that the boatmen should be tiismissed, 
and to accompany Arnold to a point higher up the shore, 
where he might remain concealed till all should be con- 
summated. Here was the fatal error that cost him his 
life. Mounting the horses, which were at hand — probably 
those "very best" required by the letter of the 19th of 
September, they rode on towards Smith's house, a few 
miles higher up. On their way, in the dusk of the early 
morning, to Andre's horror and amazement — for there is 
no reason to doubt that on this point he was sincere in 
what he said — he heard the challenge of the sentinels, and 
found himself a spy and a U-aitor's confederate within the 
American lines. Up to this time he wore his British 
unifcMui, 

Andre and Arnold remained at Smith's house during 
the day ; and, whilst there, ihey observed that the Vulture, 
annoyed by the neighbouring batteries, had fallen lowe. 
down the river, thus adding to the embarrassment of An- 
dre's situation. No mode of escape remained, but by a 



ABREST OF ANDRE. 271 

journey by laud, on the left bank of the river, through the 
line of American vvoiks, and a most disturbed district of 
country. On the evening of the 22d, Andre, having left 
his regimentals, and assumed a plain dress, in company 
with Smith, crossed the river, on his way to New York. 
He had with him, concealed in his stockings, detailed de- 
scriptions, in Arnold's wri'jng, of the post and garrison of 
West Point, and the distribution of the troops, who were 
to be so disposed, or rather dispersed, that no efl'ectual 
resistance could be made to an assault. These papers 
have been recently published, and there is nothing which 
so strongly illustrates this tangled plan of iniquity as these 
curious memoranda. Strange to say, these were in Ar- 
nold's writing, without the least attempt at disguise or 
concealment. 

The rest of this dark story is well known. Andre s 
journey from Verplank's Point to Tarrytown, near which 
he was arrested on the morning of the 23d September, 
has been often described, and yet familiar as it is, no one 
can now read it but with breathless interest. On the 
morning of the 25th, time enough having elapsed as Ar- 
nold might well suppose for Andre to be out of danger, 
and Smith having the day before reported him to be well 
on his journey, Jamieson's unaccountable letter was re- 
ceived communicating the news of the arrest. Arnold re- 
ceived it whilst breakfasting with two of Washington's 
staff at his headquarters, at Robinson's house. The shock 
of such intelligence must have been tremendous, but his 
characteristic hardihood did not fail him. No one of his 
guests observed any remarkable agitation at the moment, 
though afterwards they remembered, or fancied that they 
did, that Arnold's lip quivered, and his brow became pal- 
lid as he read the letter which told mm not only that his 
elaborate plans were frustrated, but that he was in extieme 

personal danger. —He saw that no time was to be lost. 

Washington was momentarily expected on his return from 



272 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



Hartford, and ihere was reason to fear that the next news 
might be an order for his arrest. Jaraieson might recover 
from his bewilderment, and cut off his retreat. Arnold, 
pretending that he was called suddenly to West Point, 
hastened to his wife's room, told of his crime and his dan- 
ger, but, unable to pause long enough to utter a word 
of consolation for her wretchedness, mounting his horse, 
he hurried to the river bank, where his boat lay always 
in readiness. Hoisting his handkerchief as a flag of truce 
to pass the American batteries and guard-boats, he was in 
a few minutes on the deck of the Vulture, which lay at 
anchor a short distance below. How diflferent w^as his at- 
titude from that which, in the triumph of his treason, he 
hoped to occupy! Solitary, powerless, without influence 
or success, he came to throw himself on the reluctant cha- 
rity of those whom he knew despised him, and to confess 
that all the machinations from which he had promised so 
much, were utterly inoperative of result. And when after- 
wards the news of poor Andre's fate reached the British 
camp, what new loathing must have been felt among 
Andre's friends and fellow-soldiers for the worthless blood- 
slained traitor! 

Never did Washington appear to greater advantage; 
never did the traits of his character, his grave deliberative 
heroism, his power of control, more happily exhibit them- 
selves than on the detection of Arnold's treason, and in 
the punishment of Andre. From the first moment of dis- 
covery to the last, he vvas betrayed into no vehemence of 
language, or violence of temper. Deeply mortified at find- 
ing his confidence misplaced, his only anxiety was to do 
justice to those against whom Arnold and his partisans 
had sought to poison him, and to remove the idea that 
their wiles had been successful. In this view he wrote 
promptly and decisively to Governor Reed who had been 
the especial target of malignity, and branded on Arnold's 
unblushing forehead the memorable words which have 



HIS DEATH 272 

already been more than once qiioted. Sincerely sympa- 
thizing with Andre's misfortunes, and mourning with a 
brave man's pity at his inevitable fate, Washington knew 
diat to allow the course of justice to be turned aside bv 
piTSonal considerations would be fatal to the substantial 
interests of the cause for which America was fighting, and 
a bounty on treason hereafter. If Andre who had come 
secretly with a traitor in the American camp, was par- 
doned merely because he had rank and accomplishment 
and talent, how could execution be hereafier done on any 
one? Washington decided it like a wise and good and 
brave man, and no impartial inquirer has ever condemned 
him. The blood of Andre was upon the head of Arnold. 

We have not the heart to follow the traitor farther, or 
to narrate his ruffianlike incursions at the head of British 
troops and refugees into Virginia and Connecticut. In 
enormity they exceed belief. Nor have we space to com- 
plete the record of his contemned old age. A mendicant 
of royal bounty, wandering about the streets of London — 
insulted in the gallery of parliament, repelled by his own 
countrymen as an object they detested, Arnold languished 
out the residue of his life in obscurity, and died in London, 
on the 14th June, 1801, at the age of sixty-one. 

A late writer has said that " Arnold's treason has sunk 
the memory of his noble qualities," and seems to intimate 
that in this oblivion, injustice has been done. If we have 
read the narrative of his life aright, if the scrutiny of his 
whole career, made in no spirit of detraction, is not utterly 
deceptive, if boyhood with its malicious mischief, and man- 
hood in its ascending scale of crime justify any inference, 
if, as we believe it to be, treason to one's country is a 
mode of iniquity that excludes the redeeming qualities 
which sometimes soften crime, then ought we to reject de- 
cisively that indulgent or perverse theory which finds ex- 
cuse in one solitary, detached, accidental act of virtuous 
impulse But for Arnold's kindness to Warren's orphan 

S 



274 BENEDICT ARNOLD. 

children, an incident of which quite as much has been 
made as it deserves, a thousand crimes would have been 
linked to no single virtue, and the monotony of his career 
would have been dreary indeed. Even as it is, in the 
name of American patriotism — of the unthanked virtue of 
the Revolution, of those who first detected and at vast per- 
sonal risk and in the face of a tide of obloquy, exposed 
his enormities, of Washington, whom he basely betrayed, 
and would have sacrificed — in the name of all that was 
good and generous and truly heroic in our heroic age, do 
we remonstrate against a word of astute apology or exte- 
nuation of that which the common sense of mankind has 
united to condemn. The solitary traitor of the American 
Revolution should be allowed to stand on the bad eminence 
which his iniquity has won. 



MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM SMALLWOOD. 

This officer was a native of Maryland. He arrived in 
New York at the head of a battalion on the 8th of August, 
1776, and was in the actions which followed Long Island 
and at White Plains. On the 23d of October he was cre- 
ated a brigadier-general. In the summer of 1777, he 
accompanied General Sullivan on his expedition to Staten 
Island. When the British arrived in the Chesapeake, he 
was despatched to assemble the militia of the western 
shore of Maryland, with about one thousand of whom he 
joined the main army on the 28th of September. In the 
battle of Germantown, General Forman and General 
Smallwood led the militia of New Jersey and Maryland, 
On the 19th of December, learning that the British in- 



JOHN P. D E HAAS. 276 

tended to establish a post at Wilmington, in Delaware, 
the commander-in-chief directed General Smallwood to 
occupy that place. In the following year he was not en- 
gaged in any conspicuous service. In September, 1780, 
while he was with the array under General Gates, in the 
south, he was appointed a major-general, upon the ground 
that his state was entitled to an officer of that rank. 
When General Gates was superseded, after the battle of 
Camden, by General Greene, General Smallwood re- 
turned to the north, refusing to serve under Baron Steu- 
ben, who was his senior officer, and declaring his intention 
to leave the service unless Congress should cause his 
commission to be dated two years before his appoint- 
ment.* 

General Smallwood was elected a member of Congress 
by Maryland, in 1785, and in the same year was chosen 
governor. He held the latter office three years. He 
died in February, 1792. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN P. DE HAAS. 

John Philip De Haas was probably a native of Penn- 
sylvania. He is alluded to in a letter addressed to Mif- 
flin as a man who will be likely to do good service wfth 
opportunity. He was appointed a brigadier-general for 
Pennsylvania on the 21st of February, 1777. 



• This claim was merely absurd. General Washington said of it, in 
a letter to Greene, dated 9th of January, 1780, " I cannot conceive upon 
what principles his claim of seniority is founded. If the date of his com- 
mission is to be carried back to any given period previous to his appoint- 
ment, it may supersede not only the officers now in question, but many 
others, and ind^^ed derange and throw into confusion the rank of th« 
whole line of major-generals." 



MAJOR-GENERAL ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 

The unhappy history of Arthur St. Clair is familiar in 
lis more prominent features. It is known that he was 
brave, patriotic, and esteemed by the greatest of men ; thai 
in the game of war he was a loser, and that he suffered 
that loss of consideration which is usually incurred by 
misfortune. But with the details of his life no one has 
made us acquainted. We glean with difficulty the few 
particulars that are accessible, from the narrative of his last 
disastrous campaign, and from contemporaneous memoirs 
and correspondence. 

He was born in Edinburgh in the autumn of 1734, of a 
respectable but not opulent family ; and after graduating 
at the university of his native city, studied medicine. The 
inactive and monotonous life of a physician, however, did 
not suit his ardent temperament, and obtaining a lieuten- 
ant's commission, through some influential relation, he 
entered the army, and in 1755 arrived with Admiral 
Boscawen in Canada, where he served several years with 
distinguished credit, and was present with General Wolfe, 
m September, 1759, in the battle on the plains of Abra- 
ham, in W'hich that heroic commander purchased victory 
and conquest with his life. He was now made a captain, 
and after the peace of 1763 was appointed to the com- 
mand of Fort Ligonier, in western Pennsylvania. 

It is not known how long St. Clair retained his commis- 
sion in the British army ; but his correspondence with 
Governor Penn shows that he purchased a tract of land, 
entered upon the business of farming, and turned his ma- 
thematical knowledge to advantage as a surveyor, some- 
time before the close of 1773, when he was an active 
and prominent magistrate in Westmoreland county. He 
276 



ABANDONMENT OF TICONDEROGA 277 

watched with interested attention the events whicn pre- 
ceded the Revohition, and was known, as well for his 
patriotism as for his ability, to the intelligent friends of 
liberty throughout the country. In Decenaber, 1775, he was 
appointed a colonel in the continental army. At this time 
he was clerk of the Court of Quarter Sessions, register of 
wills, lecorder of deeds, and surveyor of the county ; and 
all his offices were lucrative. He enjoyed the confidence 
and friendship of his acquaintances, was rapidly accumu- 
lating a fortune, and had a wife to whom he was tenderly 
attached, and five children equally dear tohim. But holding 
^hat there was no law above the need of his country, he 
quickly abandoned his prosperous ease; and reporting 
himself to the Congress, in Philadelphia, on the 22d of 
January, 1776, he received instructions to raise a regi- 
ment for service in Canada. In six weeks his ranks were 
filled, and on the 11th of May he was in the vicinity of 
Qirebec, just in time to cover the retreat of the defeated 
and dispirited forces under Arnold. He remained in the 
north during the summer, associated with Sullivan, An- 
thony Wayne, and other officers, and winning the re- 
spect of all of them by his intelligence, activity, and 
agreeable manners. On the 9th of August he was ap- 
pointed a brigadier-general, and in the autumn was ordered 
to join the commander-in-chief, in New Jersey, where he 
participated in the events of Trenton and Princeton. 

Thus far the career of St. Clair had been prosperous. 
His military experience acquired during the war with 
France, and his knowledge of the country and the spirit 
and resources of the people, gave him an advantage at the 
commencement of the struggle over most of the native and 
foreign officers in the continental army ; and though he 
had not had an opportunity to distinguish himself in the 
field, he had steadily grown in the favourable estimation 
of the commander-in-chief, the array, and the Congress. 
On the 19th of February, 1777, he was appointed a major- 

V^M.. I. 24 



278 ARTHUR ST. CLAIM. 

generi\l, and artor performing a short time tne duties of 
adjutant-gtMU'ral, was ordtMcd to report liimself to General 
Scluiylor, tlu'n in charge of the northern department, under 
whose direction, on the r2th of June, he assumed the com- 
mand of Tieonderoga. He found the Avorks here and at 
Mount Independence, on (he ojipositc side of Lake Cham- 
plain, garrisoned hy h'ss than two tliousand men, badly 
armed, and nearly destitute of stores ; but divided into 
several regiments, with full complenu'uts of olllcers, and 
three brigadiers. General Gales, in the previous year, had 
demanded for the defence of Ticonderoga ten thousand 
regulars, and authority to call for an unlimited number of 
volunteers ; but Congress had since received the erroneous 
information that a large portion of the British army in 
Canada was on the way to New York by sea, and that no 
serious incursions wrrt> to be ajiprehended from the 
northern frontier; ami tlu- troops needed for the defence 
of the posts above Albany were consequently detained near 
the Hudson. On the 5th of July, having ascertained that 
a force of more than seven thousand British and Germans 
was approaching under General liurgoyne, and would 
completely invest the place in twenty-four hours. General 
St. Clair determined, with the unanimous advice of a 
council of officers, consisting of General De Rochefermoy, 
General Patterson, General Poor, and Colonel-Command- 
ant Long, immediately to evaciuite the post. At midnight, 
Colonel Long, with the principal portion of the stores and 
several companies, de})arted in boats for Skeensborough, 
at the head of the lake, and at the same hour the army 
crossed unperceived to the Vermont shore, whence the 
main body marched by way of Benson and Fairhaven 
toward Castleton, and the rear guard, consisting of three 
imperfect regiments under Colonels Warner, Francis, and 
Hale, starteil for the same point by the more northern route 
of Hubbardton. 

The battle of Hubbardton, which was fought with singu- 



ABANDONMENT OF TICONDEROGA. 279 

lar bravery by troops worthy to be compared wilh the 
famous riflemen of Morgan, took place on the following 
day. Assoon as the retreat of tjie Americans had been 
ascertained, General Frazicr commenced the pursuit, and 
coming up with Colonel Hale's detachinent of militia, in 
the western part of the town, easily made them jjrisoners. 
Warner and Francis chose a strong position, about two 
miles farther eastward, and eight miles from Castleton, 
where the British attacked them with great impetuosity, 
expecting an easy victory ; but after an hour's continuous 
and ra})id firing they began to give way, and would have 
been defeated but for the timely arrival of General Reide- 
sel with a large reinforcement, when the Americans were 
compelled to give up the contest. Hale was a prisoner, 
Francis was killed, and Warner, with a considerable por- 
tion of his marksmen, reached Manchester, and united with 
Stark, in time to aid in the brilliant affair of Bennington. 
From two to three hundred, who had lied in disord(.'r, re- 
joined St. Clair, on the 8th and 9th, at Rutland, and others 
by various routes found their way to the camp of Gates, 
at Saratoga. The British loss in killed and wounded was 
two hundred and eiglity-tlirt'c, and about the same num- 
ber were left on the field and in the nrighbouring farm- 
houses by the Americans. On the r2th of July General 
St. Clair, who on account of the occupation of Skeens- 
borough by the British had been compelled to change the 
line of his retreat, reached Fort Edward, where the deci- 
mated companies of Colonel Long had already arrived by 
the way of Fort Anne. 

From the gallantry shown in its ca2:)ture by Allen and 
Arnold, near the commencement of the war, and for other 
causes, the retention of Ticonderoga appears at this time 
^0 have been regarded as a point of honour ; the condem- 
nation of St. Clair for its evacuation was common and 
earnest, and Schuyler shared in the clamorous censure be- 
stowed by the disappointed, vexed, and unreasoning upon 



280 ARTnUR ST. CLAIR. 

his subordinate. Both generals were suspended and sum- 
moned to Philadelphia, and Gates was placed in ooniniand 
of the district, in sciison to reap the advantages of Scluiyler's 
wise administration and arraufjements. Tiiouch St. Clair 
made constant etlorts to procure a trial, he was for many 
months unsuccessfid. He remained however with the army ; 
was with Washington on the lllh of September, 1777, at 
Brandywine ; was employed with Hamilton to settle a gene- 
ral cartel with the British comn^issioners at Amboy on the 
9th of March, 1780; and by his faithfujnes.s and activity 
in many ways showed how much he was superior to that 
policy towartl him which Washington himself character- 
ized as "cruel and oppressive." At length the affair was 
investigated, by a court martial, whose report was sub- 
mitted to Congress in (he mouth of October, 1778. The 
court were unanimously of opinion that Ticonderoga could 
not have been def Mided against the approaching army of 
Burgoyne,and that the commander evinced sound juilgment 
and heroic resolution in abandoning it ; and closed their 
report with the declaration that i^Mrrjor- General St. Clair 
is acquitted loith the hig/wst honour of the charges exhibited 
against Itim.^'' Congress approved without a dissenting 
voice the pro<>eedings of the court, and the injured general, 
thus triumphantly vindicated, was restored to his rightful 
position. 

Washington's confidence in St. Clair had not been in 
the slightest degree impaired, and he soon testified in a 
flattering manner his appreciation of his merits. The 
movement of Sir Henry Clinton with a large body of troops 
toward Rhode Island, occasioned preparations for an 
attack on New York, and he was ollered the command of 
the light infantry, usually held by Lafayette. The return of 
Clinton however prevented the attempt, and St. Clair was 
not called to any prominent service, until the defection of 
Arnold, when he was ordered to take charge of West 
Point. In 1781 he aided to suppress the mutiny in the 



GOVERNOR OF THE N. W. T E R R [ T O R Y. 281 

Pennsylvania line, and was active in organizing and 
forwarding troops to the south. He would himself have 
followed to take command of the army in Virginia, which 
had been offered to him, but for an order to remain 
near Philadelphia, induced by the fears of Congress 
that a blow would be struck at that city to create a diver- 
sion in favour of Cornwallis. The pressing request of 
Washington at length caused the order to be revoked, and 
he was permitted to join the commander-in-chief before 
Yorktown, where he arrived but a few days before Corn- 
wallis's capitulation. He was soon after sent with six 
regiments to reinforce the southern army, and reported him- 
self to General Greene, at Jacksonburgh, on the 27th of 
December ; but seeing no prospect of active operations, 
and confident that the war was nearly over, early in the 
summer of 1782 he returned to -his family. His course 
through the Revolution had been useful and honourable but 
not brilliant, and the consideration in which he was held 
after its close was evinced by his return to Congress by 
the legislature of Pennsylvania, in 1786, and his election 
fts speaker soon :M'ter he took his seat in that body. 

In the year 1788 General St. Clair was appointed by 
Congress the first governor of the North-western Territory. 
The losses he had sustained in the war, from the deprecia- 
tion of the currency, and other causes, were larger perhaps 
than had been suffered by any other officer, and his friends 
saw in this appointroent the means of retrieving his for- 
tune. But " they did not know," he says, " how little I 
was qualified to avail myself of any advantages, had they 
existed ;" and he was probably correct in saying that the 
acceptance of the office was "the most imprudent act of 
his life." Upon the organization of the federal govern- 
ment he was re-appointed to the office by Washington, 
and he held it until within a few weeks of the termination 
of the territorial administration, in the winter of 1802-3; 
when he was removed by Mr. Jer-i-;ji.. 
24* 



282 ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 

It was while he was governor, in 1791, that he suffered 
his memorable defeat from the western Indians. The 
failure of the expedition under General Harmer had led 
to the adoption of more energetic measures for the punish- 
ment of the refractory tribes north-west of the Ohio, and 
Governor St. Clair was appointed a major-general, and with 
fourteen hundred men encamped near the Miami villages, 
on the 3d of November, 1791. The next morning, an 
hour before sunrise, ihe army was attacked and in a few 
minutes surrounded by the savages. The militia, who 
were in advance, received the first fire, and fled precipi- 
tately through the main body, throwing them into a confusion 
from which they did not entirely recover during the action, 
which lasted about four hours. General St. Clair was in 
feeble heallh, but he behaved with singular coolness and 
bravery. His principal officers, and some of his men also, 
displayed much intrepidity, and made several effective 
charges v.ith the bayonet ; but the troops did not recover 
from the surprise into which they were thrown at the com- 
mencement, and at h'ngtii broke and fled in disorder. The 
loss in this battle and in the retreat was thirty-eight officers 
and five hundred and ninety-three men killed, and twenty- 
one officers and two hundred and forty-two men wounded. 
A committee of the House of Representatives was appointed 
to inquire into the causes of this disastrous result, and 
after a patient investigation of the subject, which extended 
through two sessions of Congress, it made reports which 
were honourable to the veteran soldier's reputation and 
conciliatory to his feelings. 

After his removal from tlie office of Governor, in 1802, 
General St. Clair returned once more to Ligonier valley. 
Fourteen years of fatigue, privation and danger, had left 
him bereft of the property which remained to him at the 
close of the Revolution, and the influence he had then 
possessed at home had also passed away in his long ab- 
sence He devoted several years to the unsuccesfaful pio 



POVERTY AND DEATH. 283 

secution of claims against the government, which were 
generally believed to be just, but were barred by techni- 
calities ; and then, despairing and broken hearted, he 
sought a shelter in the family of a widowed daughter, 
who like himself was in the most abject destitution. At 
length the state of Pennsylvania, from considerations of 
personal respect and gratitude for his past services, set 
tied on him an annuity of three hundred dollars, and thi.s 
was soon after raised to six hundred and fifty, which 
secured to him a comfortable subsistence for the brief re- 
mainder of his life. The venerable and unfortunate 
soldier died at Greensburg, from an injury received while 
riding near fliat village, on the 31st of August, 1818, in 
his eighty-fourth year; and in a few days afterwards his 
widow, who for many years had been partially deranged, 
died at about the same age. An obelisk has been placed 
over his remains, inscribed : ^'■A humble monument, wJtich 
is erected to supply the place of a nobler one due from his 
country.^'' 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL SAMUEL ELBERT. 

Samuel Elbert of Georgia entered the army as a lieu- 
tenant-colonel in 1776. He was engaged in the expedi- 
tion against East Florida, and acted gallantly at the head 
of a brigade in the action at Brier creek, on the second 
of March, 1779, when he was taken prisoner. He was 
brevetted brigadier-general on the 3d of November, 1783. 
In 1786 he was governor of Georgia, and he died at Sa- 
vannah, in that state, on the 3d of November, 1788, aged 
^orty-five years. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM IRVINE. 

WiL/.iAM Irvine was born near Enniskillen, in Ireland, 
in 1744, and received his classical education at the Uni- 
versity of Dublin. He evinced at an early age a par- 
tiality for the military profession, but his desire to enter 
it wa*] overruled by his parents, in compliance with whose 
wishes he studied medicine and surgery. Upon receiving 
his diploma, however, he obtained the appointment of 
surgeon in (he British navy, in which he continued until 
near the close of the war with France, from 1754 to 1763, 
when he resigned his place, removed to America, and 
settled in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, where in a few years he 
acquired a high reputation and an extensive practice as a 
physician. 

From the beginning. Dr. Irvine was deeply interested 
in the controversy between the colonies and the home go- 
vernment. He was a member of the Pennsylvania conven- 
tion which assembled in Philadelphia on the 15th of July, 
1774, to take into consideration the state of the country, 
and as a member of this body supported the resolutions 
denouncing the Boston Port Bill, and recommending a 
continental Congress. He was the representative of Car- 
lisle until January, 1776, when he was commissioned to 
raise and command a regiment in the Pennsylvania line. 
At the head of his troops he reached the mouth of the 
Sorel, in Canada, on the 10th of June ; was associated 
with General 'J'hompson in the unsuccessful attempt 
which was made to surprise the van-guard of the British 
army at Trois Rivieres ; and with his commander, and 
about two hundred subordinate officers and privates, was 
captured and conveyed to Quebec, where in consequence 
984 



HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 285 

of some misunderstanding respecting exchanges, he was 
many months detained as a prisoner. 

Upon his release, he was made a brigadier-general 
in the militia, in which capacity he was wounded and 
taken prisoner in the action at Chesnut Hill, New Jersey, 
in December, 1777. On the 12th of May, 1779, he was 
appointed a brigadier in the continental service, and in 
the following summer and winter he was occupied in New 
Jersey, where he was associated with Lord Stirling in his 
expedition against Staten Island, and with General Wayne 
in the affair of Bull's Ferry. For a considerable time he 
was engaged in recruiting in Pennsylvania, but was not 
very successful. He applied for and received permission 
of the commander-in-chief to raise a corps of cavalry, 
with which to go into active service, but does not appear 
to have accomplished his design. On the 8th of March, 
1782, he received his instructions as commander of Fort 
Pitt, for which post he immediately marched with the se- 
cond Pennsylvania regiment. His duties here, compre- 
hending the defence of the north-western frontier, then 
menaced with a British and Indian invasion, were difhcult 
and important, and they were executed with an ability 
and integrity that secured the approbation of the govern- 
ment, and his continuance in the command until the close 
of the war. 

In 1785, General Irvine was appointed by the Presi- 
dent of Pennsylvania an agent to examine the public 
lands set apart in that state for the remuneration of her 
troops ; and upon the completion of this duty he was 
elected a member of Congress. Soon after taking his 
seat in which body, he was selected one of the commis- 
sioners to settle the accounts between the several states, 
connected with their respective contributions for the sup- 
port of the war. He was next a member of the conven- 
tion for the formation of a constitution of Pennsylvania. 
At the time of the WTiisky Insurrection in the western 



2&(j GEORGE WEEDON. 

part of that state, he was one of the commissioners, joined 
with others appointed by Congress, who proceeded to the 
scene of the revolt, with terms of settlement ; and when 
the overtures of the commissioners were rejected, he was 
placed at the head of the Pennsylvania militia which 
marched aji'ainst the insurirents. When these disturb- 
ances were brought to a close, General Irvine, now at an 
advanced age, removed to Philadelphia, where he held 
the ollice of intendent of military stores, and was presi- 
dent of the Pennsylvania Society of the Cincinnati until 
his death, which took place in the summer of 1S04, when 
he was in the sixty-third year of his age. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE WEEDON. 

George W^eedon was a native of Virginia, and before 
the Revolution was an innkeeper at Fredericksburg. Dr. 
Smyth, an Englishman who published, in London, in 
1784, a very clever book of travels in America, observes 
that he put up at the house of Weedon, " who was then 
very active and zealous in blowing the flames of sedi- 
tion." General Mercer was then a physican and apothe- 
cary in the same village. Weedon was appointed a bri- 
gatlier-general on the 21st of February, 1777. While the 
army was at Valley Forge he retired from the service on 
account of some didiculty respecting rank with General 
Woodford. In 17S1 he was with the Virginia militia at 
Gloucester, in that state, but he never distinguished him- 
self, nor was intrusted with a separate command. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES M. VARNUM. 

James Mitchell Varnum was born in Dracut, Massa- 
chusetts, — long the residence of his family, — in the year 
1749, and was educated at the Rhode Island college, now 
Brown University, at which he graduated with a high 
reputation for scholarship in the twentieth year of his age, 
vindicating with much ability in a commencement discus- 
sion the riiiht of the colonies to resist British taxation. He 
subsequently studied the law, with Attorney-General Ar- 
nold, and on being admitted to the bar settled at East 
Greenwich, where he rapidly acquired an extensive and 
lucrative practice. As the troubles thickened with Eng- 
land he turned his attention to a military life, joined the 
"Kentish Guards," and in 1774 was made commander 
of that company, which during the revolution gave to the 
army General Greene, Colonel Crary, Major Whitmarsh, 
and some thirty other commissioned otlicers. When in- 
telligence of the battle of Lexington reached Rhode 
Island, Varnum started with his associates for the scene of 
action ; but they returned up.on hearing that the enemy 
bad retired to Boston, and when the legislature asseuiblt-d, 
the next week, Greene was appointi'd a brigadier-general, . 
and Varnum and two others colonels, with which rank they 
were soon after admitted to the continental establishment. 

On the 21st of February, 1777, Varnum was commis- 
sioned as a brigadier-general, and on the 3d of March 
Washington communicated to him his promotion in a very 
flattering letter. When Burgoyne approached Ticondero- 
ga, the commander-in-chief, anticipating an attempt to 
unite to that general's forces the army in New York, or- 
dered General Varnum with his brigade to Peekskill, on 
the Hudson ; and on tlie 1st of November he was detached 

T 287 



288 J A INI K S M. V A U N b M. 

to Red Bank, mIicii' he cominaiuU'cl all llio Aiueriran 
troops on thi* Jorst'y side of" the Delaware wiien the Hri- 
tlsli took jiossession of Piuladelphia, haviiii;- oilers to 
annoy and retard as nuuh as })ossible (he shi|)[)iiig on its 
passao^e up the river. It was under his direction that 
Major Thayer, of the Rhode Island regiment, made that 
gallant defence of Fort Millliii, from the I'Jdi to the liMh 
of November, for which Congress prcsealed a sword (o 
Lieutenant-Colonel SnuUi of the Maryland line, ignorant 
of the fact that that ollieer had relinquished (lie command 
of tlie fort on the day before the eommenci'mcnt of \jord 
Howe's attack. In tlu; following winler, Vanuim was with 
the commamler-in-chief at Valley Forge, and his letters, 
quoted by Mr. Sparks,* ju'esent viviil pictures of the sid- 
ferings of the army during that memoial)le period. In 
the spring of 177S lie i>ro[)0,sed tin- raising of" a battalion 
of neirroes in Ivhode Island, and die lei>"islalure passed an 
act giving " absoliiti' fri'edom to evervskuc who should 
enter the service anil pass muster." In M.sy he marched 
under Major-ticneral Charles Lee to the North River, and 
in Jidy was ordered with his lirigade to join S.dlivan in 
iiis exix'dition to Ivhode Island, in which he served under 
tlie immediate orders of iiafayette. lie resigneil his com- 
mission in 177t), when the luimber oi' general oflicers 
was greater than was requirei.1 for the army, and was soon 
after elected major-general of the nulilia of his native 
state, which office he continued to hold unlil his death. 

In April, 17S0, General Varnum was elect etl a member 
of the oKl Congress, in the proceedings of which he took 
an active })art until the passage of the revenue bill of 
1781, when he returned to Uhotle Islaml to enforce in her 
legislature the sanction and ailoption of that measure, but 
failed in his ellorts, and was succeedi-d by the dema- 
gogue David Howell. For several years he devoted 



• VVriliiigs of VVushiugtoii, v. Ut3, 210. 



W I I- I. I A M VV () (» I) !• <» R 1). 2S(> 

himself assiduously and with eminent success fo his pro- 
fession, and in ITHf) was a second tiinit returned lo Con- 
gress, where his aelivily, earneslness and eU)(|uence se- 
cured to liiin much inHuence. When (Jcneral St. Clair 
was appointed {governor of llu; Norlh-wesl Territory, Ge- 
neral Vaiuiim was seh'cled to he one of" llie judj^es of its 
supreme court, and in June, I7HH, he removed lo Marietta, 
to enter upon the duties of his new odiee. His heallfi 
had heen for several years decliuiuf^, and on the 17th 
of January, 17Hf), he died. 

The career of (general Varuuni was hriel and hrilliant. 
He was but Ihirly-one years ol' a^^e when he retired from 
the army, and hul forty at liis death. Hi.' was re])uted to 
be a f^ood ofllcer, l)ul h;id lillle o))|)ortunity to aecpiire 
military distinction. Mis (l.ren.sic abihlies however were 
of a hi^h order, and the fulness of his knowledj^e, his 
(juick apprehension, and the ^vwtw and power of his ora- 
tory, inspired the brightest hopes of his civic career. 



liRKiADlKlMiKNKRAI. VVIi.MAM WOODFORD. 

Wiij.iAM WooDiouu was 1)0111 in (Jaioline county, Vir- 
ginia, in i7."M. He dislini^uished himself in the f'rench 
and Indian war, and when the Virginia convention, on 
the I7lh of Jidy, 177r), pas,s<'d an ordinance for raising 
two icginienis to act in defeiu:e of iIk; <;olony, Patrick 
Henry was appointed coloncd of tin; first, and he ()f the 
se(;ond. In the military operations which ll)lIowed, in 
the vicinity of Williamsburg, In* displayed ability and 
courage, particidarly in the battle of (jreat Mridge, fought 
on the iJth of Decendjer, Ujxni which occasion he had the 
Vol. I. 25 T 



290 WILLIAM WOODFOKD. 

chief command, and gained a decided victory. He had 
resigned a colonel's commission in the continental ser- 
vice, and when, therefore, upon the recommendation of 
the cornmander-in-chief, he was appointed a brigadier- 
general, on the 21st of February, 1777, and was named 
after Muhlenburg and Weedon of the same state, he 
would have refused the office, but for the persuasion of 
Washington. "You may feel hurt," wrote his friend, 
" at having two officers placed before you, though per- 
haps never to command you, who were inferior in point 
of rank to you ; but remember that this is a consequence 
of your own act, and consider what a stake we are con- 
tending for. Trifling punctilios should have no influence 
upon a man's conduct in such a cause and at such a time 
as this. If smaller matters do not yield to greater — if tri- 
fles, light as air in comparison with what we are contend- 
ing for, can withdraw or withhold gentlemen from service, 
when our all is at stake, and a single cast of the die may 
turn the tables, what are we to expect ?" He accepted 
the commission, and assumed the command of the Vir- 
ginia regiment. In the battle of Brandywine he was 
wounded in the hand, so as to be compelled for a few 
days to leave the camp. He was in the battle of Mon- 
mouth, and in December, 1779, was ordered to the south 
He was among the prisoners taken by the British ai 
Charleston on the 12th of May, 1780, and being taken m 
New York in that summer, died there, on the 13th of No 
vember, in the thirty-sixth year of his age. 



.^- 




^[EW^®¥W® [KI»W0a.[LflA5^© 




ti^'^ >-^^ 



BRIGADIKR-GENERAL OHIO H. WILLIAMS. 

Otho Holland Williams was a native of Prince 
rUeorge's, Maryland, and was born in 1748. He entered 
the revolutionary army, in 1775, as lieutenant of a rifle 
company, being then twenty-seven years of age. His 
first distinguished service was at the attack on Fftrt 
Washington, near Boston, when he held the rank of 
major. Having twice repulsed the Hessians, who at- 
tempted to dislodge him from his post, at their third 
onset he was wounded and taken prisoner. Some time 
elapsed before he was exchanged, during which he was 
made colonel. Subsequently he acted as adjutant-general 
of the northern army, in which capacity he was present at 
the battle of Camden. After that disastrous defeat the 
remnant of the forces were organized into a single regi- 
ment, of which Williams took command, and though in 
the extremest destitution, the officers succeeded in ren- 
dering it a well-disciplined and, as was afterwards proved, 
an efficient body. When General Greene assumed the 
command of the southern department Williams once more 
was made adjutant- general, and on every occasion gained 
great honour. The successful retreat of the army through 
North Carolina was in a great measure due to the skill and 
gallantry with which he covered the movement with the 
rear guard. 

Williams is, however, best known for his charge at the 
battle of Eutaw Springs, where he decided the fortune of 
the day. At the very crisis of the fight, he brought up his 
command to sweep the field with their bayonets. Military 
annals record no more brilliant achievement. Steadil) 
under a shower of fire, that devoted band moved over th»* 
bloody battle-ground. They were irresistible ; before 

•iJM 



292 STEPHEN MOYLAN. 

them death threatened their approach, and behind them 
were only the stern marks of their passage. Tliey gained 
the victory, but their tliinned ranks and the fallen bodies 
of their comrades strewing the field told how dearly. 

Towards the close of the war Williams was made a 
brigadier-general. Soon afterwards he received the ap- 
pointment of collector of customs for the slate of Maryland. 
This lucrative office he subsequently received under the 
federal government, and held it until his death, which 
took place on the iCth of July, 1794, at the age of forty- 
six years. This early decease was caused by his sufTer- 
iiigs while a prisoner in the hands of the British, and his 
exposure while at the south. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL STEPHEN MOYLAN. 

Stephkn Moylan was a native of Ireland, and was 
lesiding in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the Revolu- 
tion. He was among the first to hasten to the camp at 
Cambridge, and being a man of education and gentle- 
manly addrt'ss, he was selected by Washington on the 5th 
of Murch, 177(i, to be one of his aides-de-camp, and on 
the 5th of the following June, at his recommendation, 
was appointed commissary-general. The want of exact 
business habits rendered him unfit for the commissary de- 
partment, and he soon resigned this place to enter the line 
of the army, as a volunteer. In the beginning of 1777 he 
commanded a regiment of dragoons ; on ihe4th of October 
in the same year he was at Germantown ; in the winter 
following he was at Valley Forge ; in 1779 he was on the 
Hudson and in Connecticut ; on the 20th of July, 1780, 
accompanied Wayne on the expedition to Bull's Ferry; and 
in 1781 was sent with the Pennsylvania troops to join 
Geneial Greene, in the south. He was made brigaaier- 
general, by brevet, on the 3d of November, 1783. 



MAJOR-GENEllAL ALEXANDER McDOUGALL. 

There are few names in our annals upon which we 
linger with more satisfaefion than ujion that of the gallant 
and true-hearted Alexander McDougall. "//is zeal is 
unquestionable," wrote Washington to Schuyler, as early 
(IS the middle of August, 1775, when he turned almost 
disheartened from contemplating the sordid aims and 
petty rivalries that were exhibik'd in the camp ; <' I wish 
every ofTiccr in the army could apjx-al to his own heart," 
he wrote to McDougall in May, 1777, "and find the same 
principles of conduct that I am persuaded actuate you : we 
should then exjierience more consistency, zeal, and steadi- 
ness, than we do now, in but too many instances ;" and 
many years afterwards the same sagacious judge of 
human character, in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, la- 
mented the " brave soldier and disinterested patriot" as 
one of the fallen pillars of the revolution. 

The father of Alexander McDougall was a farmer, in 
moderate circumstances, who at an early age had emi- 
grated from Scotland and settled in the vicinity of New 
York, in which city the youth of the soldier was passed in 
various active employments. Here he watched with keen- 
Kighted vigilance the aggressive steps of the royal govern- 
ment ; and when the Assembly faltered in its opposition 
,0 the usurpations of the crown, and in the winter of 
1769, insulted the people by rejecting a proposition 
authorizing the vote by ballot, and by entering upon the 
favourable consideration of a bill of supplies for troo})s 
quartered in the city to overawe the inhabitants, he issued 
an address, under the title of <<A Son of Liberty to the 
Betrayed Inhabitants of the Colony," in which he con- 
trasted the Absembly with the legislative bodies in other 
25* 293 



294 ALEXANDKR McDOUGALL. 

parts of the country, and lirld uji their conduct to unraitU 
gated and just indignation. The bold rebuke was hiid 
before tlie house by its speaker, and, with the single ex- 
ception of Phili]) Schuyler, every member voted that it 
was "an infamous and seditious Hbel." A proclamation 
for the discovery of the author was issued by the go- 
vernor ; it was traced to McDoujj^all ; and he was taken 
on a bench warrant and brought before the chief justice. 
Clearly reading in the signs about him the future history 
of the country, he exclaimed, as he was conveyed to 
prison, '<I rejoice that I am the first sufferer for liberty 
since the commencement of our glorious struggle." 
From his place of confinement he poured forth continued 
ajjpeals to the peoj)le, fiill of scornful reproaches of his 
oppri'ssors, and bold avowals of revolutionary o})inions. 
Women of the first consideration sought by visits to soften 
the severity of his punishment ; in every circle his ease 
was the subject of impassioned conversation ; and he 
became in an especial manner the idol of the masses, 
who saw in the elevation of one of their own number that 
in the controversy upon which they were entering there 
were to be no distinctions but such as awaited faith and 
energy. At the end of three months an imiictment was 
lbui\(l against him by a packed jury ; and ailer he had 
incurred the penalty of the law he was brought before the 
Assembly, at its next session, and it was moved that ihe 
inlliction of peine forte et dure should be imposed to 
extort from him a humiliating recantation; but he 
answered to the threat undauntedly, that "rather tlian 
resign his rights and privileges as a British subject, he 
would suffer his right hand to be cut oflf at the bar of the 
house." 

Set at liberty, McDougall entered into correspondence 
with the master-spirits in all parts of the country ; and 
when the celebrated meeting in the fields was held, on 
tlie Clh of July, 1774, preparatory to the elecUon of the 



M I I. n A R Y s i; K V I C K s. 295 

New York delegates to the first general congress, he was 
called to preside, and resolutions prepared by liirn were 
adopted, pointing out tlu; mod(! of choosing deputies, 
inveighing against the Boston Port Bill, and urging upon 
the proposed congress the })rohibition of all commercial 
intercourse with (jlreat Britain. 

McDougall was ap[)oin1ed colonel of thf first revolu- 
tionary regiment that was raised in New York, and on 
the 9th of August, 1770, he. was created a brigadier- 
general. On the (evening of the 29th of the same month 
he was s(!lected by Washington to su[)erinterid the em- 
barkation of the troo])S from Brooklyn ; he was actively 
engaged on Chatterton's Hill and in various places in 
New Jersey ; and when Oenend IIe?ilh, in the spring of 
1777, left Peekskill to assume the cf)mrnand of the eastern 
department, he succeeded that officer, but was compelled 
by a superior force, sent up the river by Cicneral Ilowe, 
to retre;it from the town, destroying a considcrabh; su[)ply 
of stores, on th*; 23d of March. After the battle of Ger- 
mantown, in whicli he particij);ited, Washingtrin recom- 
mend(!d his apjiointment as a major-general. " From his 
abilities, military knowledge, and apj)roved bravery," 
wrote the chief to the president of Congress, << he has 
every claim to promotion. If I mistake not, he was 
passed over in the last appointments of major-generals, 
and younger officers preferred before him ; but his dis- 
interestefl attachment to the service prevented his acting 
in the manner that is customary in like circumstances." 
His new commission was datefl the 2()th of October. On 
the IfJth of March, 1778, he was directed to assume the 
command of the different posts on the Hudson, and, 
assisted by Kosciuszko, he pursued with activity the con- 
struction of the fortifications in the Higldands. He wa^ 
actively btit not conspicuously engaged in thi.s part of the 
country until the close of 1780, when ho was called upon 
by New York to repair to Congreng ns one of the re])re- 



296 ALEXANDER Mc DOUG ALL. 

sentatives of that state, as soon as he could obtain per- 
mission to leave the army. It was a critical moment. 
Washington urged his acceptance of the post, and he 
accordingly took his seat in the next January. The fol- 
lowing letter, which he addressed to President Reed of 
Pennsylvania, while he was on the Hudson, is so charac- 
teristic that we quote it at length: 

ii Head-quarters^ Peekskill^ March 2bth, 1779. 

"My dear Sir — I was honoured in due time with your 
favour of the 28th ultimo. I have written to Brigadier- 
General Huntington on the subject of Mr. Minar's com- 
plaint, and enclosed him certified copies of the depositions 
transmitted to you. General Parsons is at New London. 
The former being a gentleman and a man of nice feelings, 
and connected with Governor Trumbull, I considered him 
as the fittest person to aid in obtaining redress. It would 
give me great pleasure to visit your city, for many rea- 
sons. But the state of my command at these posts utterly 
forbids it. You will be informed by the enclosed of the 
state of the enemy in my front. And I am so closely kept 
to business, that I have not time to take proper rest. The 
grand army left me in a state little better than <bare 
creation.' This, with a variety of posts, new works to 
erect, and the dilFerent communications at these posts, 
give me full employ, from reveille to tattoo. I assure you 
I am obliged, from the duties of the post, and the state of 
the times, to live a truly Spartan life. But this is not 
painful to me. It has been the misfortune of this country 
tliat every year has afforded some amusement to retard its 
exertions against the common enemy. At one time, re- 
conciliation ; at another, assistance from France is to 
effect our deliverance ; this failing, our alliance with that 
people is to accomplish our redemption; now, Sjain's 
accedmg to our independency is the tub of the day. 
Those alliances are favourable, and natural, as they have 



OBSERVATIONS AND OPINIONS. 297 

mutual interest for their bases, and there can be no im- 
portant temptation to either of the parties to reeede from 
them. But, my dear sir, if all Europe is to declare in 
our favour, this will not pay our debts, or restore our de- 
preciated currency ; and foreign loans will ruin us, by 
paying interest to foreigners, out of our country. Our 
deliverance, under God, must come from ourselves. The 
voice of Providence points it out ; I had almost said, 
divine revelation does it. I own, however advantageous 
those alliances are to America, my hopes or expectations 
from them are not so sanguine as those of many others. 
One decisive naval victory in favour of your enemies will 
give them courage, vigour, and public credit. That 
nation, as such, is poor, but the individuals of it are rich, 
and they are well practised in all the arts of financiering. 
If that people are once brought, on such an event, to exert 
themselves in favour of their coimtry, the war will be 
engthened out much longer than our sanguine politicians 
imagine. We ought to be vigorously preparing for an 
offensive campaign, but instead of this, America is in a 
profound sleep. 

" We vainly imagine the enemy will evacuate New 
York. He has no such intention. He is confident our 
currency will fail us, that three-fourths of the inhabitants 
of these states are pleased with the terms' offered by the 
commissioners, and that whenever the supplies for the 
army fail, the people will return to their allegiance. He 
is now counterfeiting another emission, which will soon 
be out. 

" I feel mortified that the troops in New York should 
hold America at defiance, and sure I am, they might be 
routed this campaign if early preparations are made. 
While the enemy is master of our coast, by our attempt- 
ing to cover the whole country, we cover none of it. I 
know the commander-in-chief is embarrassed often for 
want of strength, and with the partial cries and views of 



298 ALZXANDER McDOUGALL. 

the diU'erent states. But if we carry on the war as we 
have done, we shall do nothing decisive. We fall under 
the reprehension of that sagacious statesman and soldier, 
the King of Prussia. His ideas are these : < The general 
acting on the defensive, who attempts to cover all his 
country, will cover none.' The conduct of our gentle- 
men, you allude to, is truly mysterious : there is one 
obvious important point, in which your state and ours 
have a common interest ; how they can reconcile it to their 
trust, to create distrust in your people and meddle with 
your internal affairs, I am at a loss to conceive. Sure I 
am, it is not agreeable to their immediate or remote con- 
stituents. Under the rose, measures are in train to regu- 
late the conduct of gentlemen who seem to require it. 

<« The want of the Journals of Congress is a great im- 
pediment to the public service ; as in many instances the 
country and army are total strangers to tlie law of either, 
so far as it respects their conduct. Resolves published in 
newspapers get lost, and although they may be transmitted 
to the commander-in-chief, and by him to officers com- 
manding departments, yet the latter are often changed, 
and the relievers are without law. I have more than once 
represented to that honourable body and some of its mem- 
bers the absolute necessity of publishing the acts of Con 
gress in pamphlet form, at least' so far as they respect the 
army: but without effect. I fear there is too much 
caballing amongst them, and that by their grasping to do 
every thing themselves, very little is done. All necessary 
boards should be constituted, and they should be made 
answerable for the faithful discharge of their trust with 
their heads. While we are pleasing and amusing our- 
selves with Spartan constitutions on paper, a very contrary 
spirit reigns triumphant in all ranks: we may lookout for 
some fatal catastrophy to befall this people; our political 
constitutions and manners do not agree; one or the other 
must fall — give way — otherwise America is a pheuomenoii 



JOHN GLOVER. 299 

in civil society. Spartan constitutions and Roman man- 
ners, peculiar to her declining state, never will arcord. 
This is wrote in haste ; I therefore beg you will view it 
with an indulgent eye, and believe me to be, with great 
truth and regard, 

«Your affectionate friend and very humble servant, 
Alexander McDougall." 

Upon a new organization of the executive department, 
by Congress, in the beginning of 1781, General McDougall 
was appointed Minister of Marine. He did not, however, 
long remain in Philadelphia. His habits, friendships, 
associations, and convictions of duty, all recalled him to 
the camp. The confidence felt in his perfect integrity 
and good sense by all classes in the service, was such, 
that when the army went into winter quarters at New- 
burgh, in 1783, he wa.-] chosen as the head of the com- 
mittee sent to Congress to represent their grievances. 

After the close of the war, General McDougall was 
elected a member of thcj senate of New York, of which 
body he was a m^raber when he died, in June, 1786. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GLOVER. 

At the commencement of the Revolution, Marblehead 
was the sec »nd town in Massachusetts, both in population 
and wealth, and immediately after the battle of Lexingt(»n, 
it sent a regiment of a thousand men, under Colonel John 
Glover, to join the army at Cambridge. 

Here John Glover was born in 1733. A man of energy 
and of military abilities, he became the favourite of the 
militia. While at Cambridge, he was of great service in 
organizing and disciplining the troops. In 1776 he was 
in command of a regiment under General Ward at Bos- 



300 JOHN GLOVER. 

ton, and with his brave men led the advance of the army 
which crossed ihe Delaware under Washington, on the 
memorable 25th of December. 

On the 21st of February, 1777, Congress conferred 
upon him the rank of brigadier-general. Distrusting his 
own ability for the station, he hesitated about accepting 
it, and on the 1st of April wrote to General Washington 
an intimation of his intention to decline. The chief 
answered, that " Diffidence in an officer is a good mark, 
because he will always endeavour to bring himself up to 
what he conceives to be the full line of his duty ; but I think 
I may tell you, without flattery, that I know of no man 
better qualified than yourself to conduct a brigade. You 
have activity and industry ; and as you very well know 
the duty of a colonel, you know how to exact that duty 
from others." After receiving this letter he changed his 
mind, accepted the office, and in a few days joined the 
army. In July he was ordered from Peekskill with his 
brigade to reinforce General Schuyler, whose force was sup- 
posed to be insufficient to oppose the progress of Burgoyne. 
General Glover was afterwards selected to conduct the 
surrendered army of Burgoyne through New England ; and 
on various occasions during the war received the applause 
of the commander-in-chief. He joined the army under 
Greene in New Jersey, when it was intended to attack 
the enemy under Cornwallis, and in the summer of 1778, 
he was detached to Rhode Island under General Sullivan. 
In 1780, he was ordered into Massachusetts to superin- 
tend the forwarding of the drafts from that state, and he 
continued in service until the liberties of his country had 
been secured, and carried with him into retirement the 
esteem of Washington, and enjoyed in private life the 
grateful friendship of his fellow-citizens. He died at 
Marblehead, on the 30th of January, 1797, aged sixty- 
four years. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL LACHLAN McINTOSH. 

John More McIntosh, hereditary chief of the clan 
Mcintosh, lost his property in Scotland in consequence 
of the support which his family gave the Pretender in the 
Rebellion of 1715, and upon the invitation of General 
Oglethorpe, with one hundred and thirty Highlanders, 
who determined to follow his fortunes, he came to 
America in the winter of 1736, and settled upon the 
Altahama, in Georgia, at the point where now stands 
the city of Darien. When General Oglethorpe invaded 
Florida, in 1740, he followed him, at the head of his 
Highland company, and was taken prisoner by the Spa- 
niards at Fort Moosa, near St. Augustine, and sent to 
Spain, where he was detained several years. He at 
length returned to America with a broken constitution, 
and in a short time died. His second son, Lachlan 
Mcintosh, was about nine years of age when the family 
quitted Scotland, and his mother had since instructed 
him carefully in the common branches of an English 
education. General Oglethorpe had now gone back to 
England, and no schemes of ambition tempting him to 
remain in Georgia, he sought a more promising field of 
enterprise in Charleston, where the fame of his father's 
gallantry and misfortunes secured to him a kind recep- 
tion from Henry Laurens, then one of the most eminent 
merchants of South Carolina, and afterwards known to the 
world as the President of Congress and the first Minister 
of the United States to Holland. In the family and the 
country house of Mr. Laurens he remained many years, 
and here he contracted friendships that lasted while he 
Uved, with some of the leading citizens of the southern 
colonies. Having adopted the profession of a surveyor, 

Vol. I. 26 »oi 



302 L A c H L A N Mcintosh. 

and married, he finally returned to Georgia, where ne 
acquired a wide and honourable reputation before the 
commencement of hostilities with Great Britain, so that 
when a revolutionary government was organized, and a 
regiment was raised in Georgia to support the popular 
movement, he was unhesitatingly made colonel-command- 
ant ; and when the order was issued to raise three other 
••egiments, in September, 1776, he was appointed briga- 
dier-general. 

The death of Governor BuUocIc, about this time, was 
followed by the election to the chief magistracy of Button 
Gwinnett, who had been an unsuccessful competitor with 
General Mcintosh for the command of the troops. Gwin- 
nett was a man of bad passions, unrestrained by any 
honourable principles, and he appears to have made use 
of his official authority in petty persecutions of Mcintosh 
and his family, several of whom were joined with him in 
the military service. Colonel William Mcintosh was led 
by Gwinnett's conduct indignantly to throw up his com- 
mission, but the general bore his injuries patiently until 
he ceased to be governor, when he communicated to him 
the opinion he entertained of his conduct, received a 
challenge, and in a duel wounded him mortally. He now 
applied, through his friend Colonel Laurens, for a place in 
the continental army, and with his staff was invited to 
join the commander-in-chief. He arrived at the camp 
soon after the battle of Brandywine, and was for a con- 
siderable time employed in watching the motions of 
General Howe in Philadelphia. 

While the army was in winter quarters at Valley Forge, 
the attention of the government was frequently called to 
the exposed condition of the western frontier, upon which 
the British were constantly exciting the Indians to the 
most terrible atrocities : and though a single company 
could be spared with difficulty from the army for such a 
■^'irpose, it was determined to send an expedition against 



SIEGE OF SAVANNAH. 303 

the tribes on the Ohio, and Washington selected General 
Mcintosh to command it. In a letter to the president of 
Congress, dated the r2th day of May, 1778, he remarks: 
"I part with this gentleman with much reluctance, as I 
esteem him an officer of great worth and merit, and know 
his services here are and will be materially wanted. 
His firm disposition and equal justice, his assiduity and 
good understanding, added to his being a stranger to all 
parties in that quarter, pointed him out as a proper person ; 
and I trust extensive advantages will be derived from his 
command, which I wish were more agreeable." General 
Mcintosh marched with a reinforcement of five hundred 
men to Fort Pitt, of which he assumed the command, and 
in a short time he succeeded in giving repose to all west- 
ern Pennsylvania and Virginia. In the spring of 1779, 
he completed arrangements for an expedition against 
Detroit, but in April he was recalled by Washington, to 
take a part in operations proposed for the south, where 
his knowledge of the country, added to his other good 
qualities, promised to make him eminently useful. 

General Mcintosh joined General Lincoln in Charleston, 
and every preparation in their power was speedily made 
for the invasion of Georgia, then in possession of the 
British, as soon as the French fleet under the Count 
d'Estaing should arrive on the coast. General Mcintosh 
marched to Augusta, took command of the advance of the 
American troops, and proceeding down to Savannah, 
where he arrived about the 10th of September, drove in all 
the British outposts. In expectation of being joined by 
the French, he marched to Beauley, where D'Estaing 
effected a landing on the 12th, 13th, and 14th, and on the 
15th they were joined by General Lincoln. Unfortunately, 
General Prevost, the British commander, had been ap- 
prised, since the 3d of the month, of the approach of the 
French fleet, and from that time had been actively pre 
paring for defence ; but his works were still incomplete. 



304 LACHLAN McINTOSH. 

and reinforcements which he expected under Colonel 
Maitland, comprising the flower of the British army in 
the south, had not arrived. Under these circumstances, 
which were known in the American camp, General 
Mcintosh pressed for an immediate attack, which the 
French admiral, with that appearance of perversity which 
had distinguished his conduct at Newport, refused, think- 
ing he would at any time have an easy victory. He, 
however, summoned General Prevostto surrender, and that 
officer demanded time for consideration of the proposition, 
which was granted. Meantime the British engineers, 
under Colonel Moncrief, worked day and night upon their 
fortifications, and on the 17th Colonel Maitland came to 
their relief, with nearly a thousand veterans. At length, 
on the 9th of October, when success was no longer possi- 
ble, D*Estaing decided upon an attack, and of the four 
thousand French and Americans who went into action 
on that occasion, one thousand were left upon the field, 
swept down like grass by the well-covered artillery of the 
enemy. The French fleet put to sea, and Generals Lin- 
coln and Mcintosh retreated to Charleston, where they 
were besieged by an overwhelming force under General 
Clinton, to whom the city was surrendered on the 12th 
of May, 1780. 

Here closes General Mcintosh's military life. He whs 
long detained as a prisoner of war, and never again he'd 
any command. When he was released, he retired with 
his family into Virginia, where he remained until the 
British were driven from Savannah. Upon his return to 
Georgia, he found his personal property wasted and his 
real estate much diminished in value ; and he lived in 
retirement and comparative poverty until his deaih. which 
took place at Savannah in 1806, when he wa«5 in xha 
Beventy-ninth year of his age. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM THOMPSON. 

On the 14th of June, 1775, the day before the ap- 
pointment of the commander-in-chief, Congress ordered 
that six companies of riflemen should be raised in 
Pennsylvania, and on the 22d of the same month it 
was ordered that two more companies should be raised, 
and that the eight together should make a battalion, to be 
commanded by such officers as should be recommended 
by the colonial assembly. These companies were filled 
up with remarkable celerity. William Thompson, who 
had served as a captain of horse in 1759-60, was 
made colonel; and before the 14th of August they had 
marched to the camp at Cambridge. These were the 
first troops raised in pursuance of orders from the Conti- 
nental Congress. When a party of the British attempted 
a landing on Lechmere Point, on the 10th of November, 
they were driven back by Thompson's regiment, who 
gallantly waded through the water of an intervening 
marsh and compelled them to embark to the cover of 
their ships and batteries. On the 1st of March, 1776, 
he was appointed a brigadier-general, and on the 19th* 
he succeeded General Lee as commander of the troops 
in New York, where he remained until the following 
month, when he was detached with four regiments — 
increased by reinforcements sent afterwards to ten — to 
Canada. He joined the northern army in a period of 
disasters, and, during the sickness of General Thomas, 
was in the chief command. General Thomas died on 
the 2d of June ; General Sullivan arrived at Sorel on the 
4th, and on the 6th he sent General Thompson with 
ihree reginents to attack the enemy at Trois Rivieres, 

26* U 306 



306 JOHN NIXON. 

where, by a series of unfortunate accidents, his party was 
defeated, and he himself and several other officers were 
taken prisoners. Various unsuccessful attempts were 
made for an exchange, but he continued a prisoner of 
war for more than two years. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN NIXON. 

John Nixon was a native of Framingham, Massachu- 
setts, where he was born on the 4th of March, 1725. 
When the expedition against Cape Breton, planned by 
Colonel William Vanghan, was undertaken by Governor 
Shirley, in 1745, Nixon joined the troops under Sir Wil- 
liam Pepperell, and was at the capture of Louisbourg. 
After serving in the army and navy seven years, he re- 
turned to his native place, but soon again entered the army 
as a captain, and fought at Ticonderoga when Aber- 
crombie was defeated, and in the battle of Lake George. 
Afterward, falling into an ambuscade, he cut his way 
through the enemy and escaped, but with the loss of 
nearly all his party. In the Revolution, he was at the head 
of a company of minute men at Lexington; and at Bunker 
Hill, where he commanded a regiment, he received a severe 
wound, from which he never entirely recovered. He was 
made a brioadier-jjeneral in Aujjust, 1776. Washington 
intrusted him with the command on Governor's Island, 
near New York. He was with Gates in 1777. In tlie 
battle of Stillwater a cannon-ball passed so near his head 
as to impair permanently the sight of one eye, and his 
hearing in one ear. In bad health, he resigned his com- 
mission in 1780. In 1803 he removed to Middlebury, 
Vermont, where he resided with his children until he 
died, on the 24th of March, 1815, at the age of ninety. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MORDECAI GIST. 

MoRDECAi Gist was born in 1743. He was the son ol 

Captain Thomas Gist and Susan Cockey, both of whose 
families were among the earliest English settlers in Mary- 
land. He was trained for commercial life, and when 
the Revolution broke out he was engaged in mercantile 
pursuits. He proved himself a worthy son of that epoch 
of immortal men, and hastened to render his best services 
to his country. 

In January of 1775 we find the first record of his mili- 
tary career. He was then elected to command a com- 
pany of volunteers raised at Baltimore, from among the 
young men of the most respectable families. This was 
the first military body furnished by Maryland to the re- 
volutionary army, and Gist seemed fitted to be the pio- 
neer of his native state. His tall and gracefid figure, 
symmetrical proportions, great strength, and expressive 
features lighted by an eye of singular brightness, indi- 
cated one of those chivalric characters who are created to 
lead others, and adorn the country of their birth. 

At the battle of Long Island our hero had an opportunity 
of displaying the courage and sagacity, which were native 
to his character. At the commencement of 1776 he had 
been made major of a battalion of Maryland regulars, and 
in the absence of the colonel and lieutenant-colonel, 
he commanded his regiment. During the campaign of 
the succeeding year, he distinguished himself greatly for 
fidelity and steadiness. The hour of duty always found 
him at his post. This year he was made colonel, and 
together with Smallwood, whose name is on more than 
one occasion honourably connected with his own, com* 

307 



308 



MORDECAI GIST. 



manded the mililia furnished by Maryland in compli- 
ance with the requisition of Congress. In January, 1779, 
Congress recognised his worth, by conferring on him the 
rank of brigadier-general; next year he was attached to 
the army of the South, and bore his full share in the va- 
rious fortunes which attended it. 

General Gist's name is best known in connection with 
(he bloody and unfortunate battle of Camden. Here 
Gates and Cornwallis, each moving with the design of 
surprising the other, met at two o'clock on the morning 
of the 15lh of August, 1780. The darkness of that early 
hour did not prevent a conflict, but prudence on both 
sides hindered its becoming general, and the armies sus- 
pended their fire until dawn. When that time arrived, 
the locality was found to favour the British forces. A 
morass on each flank made their smaller number fully 
equal to their antagonists. General Gates divided his 
advance into three columns ; the right resting on the 
morass was led by Gist; the left and centre commanded 
by Caswell and Stevens was routed, as in obedience to 
a blundering order of Gates, each was moving to take the 
other's position. But, Gist, tiue to his reputation, kept 
his post. Amid the disgraceful flight of others he main- 
tained the honour of Maryland and of the republic. The 
bold and deadly pressure with which Lord Rawdon 
sought to drive him back, seemed vain as the rush of a 
storm on the stern sides of a mountain. His fire in reply 
was terrible, and charging again and again with the 
brave De Kalb he made the victory a dear one to the 
enemy. And when at last the noble German fell, piercea 
with bullets, and the rout became general, Gist still pre- 
served his calmness of mind. He rallied a hundred men, 
mcluding the remnant of Armand's dragoons, and brought 
them off in order. For his valour and good conduct in 
this battle, in conjunction with Smallwood, the other 
Maryland leader, he received the thanks of Congress, and 



DAVID WOOSTER. 309 

when three days after the fight De Kalb felt himself neai 
death, he requested his aid-de-cainp to communicate to the 
two generals and the army his high sense of their merits. 

In 1782 he joined the light troops of the southern army, 
and commanded in the affair at Combahee, the last engage- 
ment of the war, in which he obtained a victory, with the 
loss of the gallant and much-lamented Laurens. On the 
declaration of peace he retired to his plantation near 
Charleston, where he remained till his death, which took 
place in 1792, at the age of forty-nine. 

General Gist was married three times, and was the 
father of two sons, the first of whom he named "United," 
and the second "States," in this eccentric manner evinc- 
ing a patriolism of which he had already given sterner 
and more memorable manifestations. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL DAVID WOOSTER. 

The early dealh of Wooster has prevented his name 
from being so generally familiar as the names of others 
who survived the contest to tell how fields were won, 
and to show the honourable scars of patriotic warfare. 

He was born in Stratford, Connecticut, on the 2(1 of 
March, 1710. E:irly in life he visited England, wherehis fine 
talents, elegant address, and handsome person attracted 
the attention of the court. His portrait was engraved, 
his society courted, a captain's commission with half-pay 
for life was presented him, all showing the desire of the 
British government to conciliate the favour of those likely 
to be influential in the colonies. 

Like most of the leaders in the Revolution, Woostei 
served honourably through the old French war, and sucn 
was the respect in which his abilities were held, that upon 
thf breaking out of hostilities between ourselves and Eng 



310 DAVID WOOSTER. 

land, he was one of the eight brigadier-generals appointed 
by the first Congress. After the fall of Montgomery before 
Quebec, the command of the Canadian forces devolved 
principally upon General Wooster, and the duties, arduous 
and disheartening, of securing the retreat of a baffled and 
sickly army were performed to the satisfaction of Con- 
gress, though under such circumstances not likely to cover 
9 leader with much glory. 

During the winter of 1776-7 he was employed in raising 
recruits and protecting provisions for the army, which 
had been collected at Danbury, Connecticut. On the 
26th of April, 1777, a body of British troops attacked the 
town of Danbury, and destroyed the magazines. The 
news spread in all directions, the country was filled with 
alarm. Generals Wooster and Arnold summoned the mi- 
litia, and with only six hundred men pursued the re- 
treating foe, which consisted of two thousand well dis- 
ciplined and effective men. Regardless of the dispropor- 
tion of numbers the attack was vigorously opened, but 
the raw militia, thus hastily summoned and badly ac- 
coutred, gave way before the artillery of the enemy. 
Wooster led up his men to a second attack, when a 
musket ball wounded him in the thigh, and he was borne 
from the field. The wound was mortal, and thus early 
in our great contest were we deprived of the services of a 
most efficient and devoted champion. He was interred 
in the village in whose defence he had lost his life, May 
2, 1775. Congress on the reception of the melancholy in- 
telligence formed suitable resolves and appropriated five 
hundred dollars for the erection of a monument, request- 
ing the executive of the state to carry their resolutions 
into effect. To the shame of Connecticut this has been 
neglected, and one of their greatest worthies lies un- 
bonoured 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH SPENCER. 

Joseph Spencer was one of the eight brigadier-generals 
appointed by Congress, at the instance of General Wash- 
ington, on the 22d of June, 1775. He was born at East Had- 
dara, Connecticut, in 1714. He was an officer of the militia, 
and rose to the rank of colonel in the French war of 1758. 
An older officer in the provincial service than Putnam, 
and yielding to no one in devotion to the popular cause, 
he was offended when the latter was placed over him, by 
his appointment as a major-general, and retired from the 
army. The commissions for the general officers were 
forwarded to Washington, who had delivered Putnam's 
before he was apprized of the feeling the new appoint- 
ments occasioned, and in his letter to Congress, of the 
10th July, 1775, he says, <' I am very sorry to observe, 
that the appointment of general officers, in the provinces 
of Massachusetts and Connecticut, has not corresponded 
with the wishes or judgment of either the civil or mili- 
tary." The dissatisfaction was general, and Washing- 
ton withheld the commissions until the difficulties about 
rank were adjusted by Pomroy's declining to accept in 
Massachusetts, and Spencer's consenting to serve under 
Putnam, rather than quit the service at such a critical 
period. He remained with the army near Boston, until 
the enemy evacuated the city, and marched with the di- 
vision, ordered soon after to the defence of New York. 
On the 9th of August, 1776, he was appointed a major- 
general. He opposed the evacuation of New York in Sep- 
tember, when the forces of the enemy were concentrating 
to the attack, but the event justified the course adopted 
by the commander in chief. 

A fleet having appeared off New London in December, 

311 



312 JOSEPH SPENCER. 

with an evident design of making a descent upon some 
part of New England, Governor Trumbull applied to 
Washington for general officers to command the militia, 
who were assembling and determined to make the best 
opposition in their power. Generals Spencer and Arnold 
were ordered upon this duty. Spencer was instructed to 
detain the militia, if necessary, who were on the march 
towards New York ; but when it was found that Sir Peter 
Parker was proceeding to Rhode Island, Washington 
ordered him to hasten forward the eastern troops as fast 
as possible to his assistance, as the only means of saving 
Philadelphia, and preventing a fatal blow to America, in 
the loss of a city whence so many of our resources were 
drawn. General Spencer was at the same time directed 
to take command at Rhode Island, which was now in- 
vested by the naval force under Admiral Parker. The 
enemy had taken possession of Newport, and a large force 
was assembled at Providence under General Spencer, with 
a view to dispossess them ; but the enterprise failed, and 
after parading for some weeks in the neighbourhood, with- 
out striking a blow, the militia were dismissed to their 
homes. General Spencer was much censured for the fail- 
ure of the expedition, but a court of inquiry saw nothing 
in his conduct to be condemned, and attributed the result 
to causes which were beyond his control. The New 
England colonies were at the time so exhausted by pre- 
vious ellbrts, that they could not provide means of a suc- 
cessful assault upon the garrison. 

At the close of the year 1777, General Spencer re- 
siffned his commission, and was afterwards but little in 
public life. He remained, however, an earnest friend to 
the cause, and rejoiced heartily in its final triumph. He 
died at his native place, East Haddam, in January, 1789, 
aged seventy-five. His nephew, Oliver Spencer, com- 
manded a regiment in the battle of Princeton, and aftei 
the war, removed to Ohio, where he died in 1811. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL ENOCH POOR. 

When Lafayette revisited the theatre of his youthful 
triumphs, the sight of the scarred veterans who greeted 
his progress brought to his remembrance many a gallant 
comrade who was now sleeping. Arriving at the capital 
of New Hampshire, the survivors of the Revolution flocked 
from all quarters to see him. Some who had fought by 
his side at Monmouth, Brandywine, and Yorktown, shed 
tears on being recognised by their old commander afier a 
separation of fifty years. The occasion was one of joy 
to the illustrious foreigner, as well as to the thousands 
who thronged about him ; and when the orators, had 
spoken at the festive board, and the guest was called on 
by a gray-haired veteran for a sentiment, he rose, and in 
a few brief words, uttered with a look and tone of feeling 
which will never be forgotten by those who heard him, 
offered the following toast: ^i' Light Infantry, Poor, and 
Yorktown, Scammell." A volume could not have better 
expressed his opinion of the gallant dead. General 
Poor he remembered as the leader of the noble corps of 
light infmtry attached to his division in 1780, and the 
heroic Colonel Scammell he had seen mortally wounded 
at the siege of Yorktown. 

Enoch Poor was a native of Andover, in Massachusetts, 
the son of Thomas Poor, and grandson of Daniel Poor, 
one of the first settlers of that town. After acquiring the 
education of the common schools in his native place, ke 
removed to Exeter, then one of the most flourishing towns 
in New Hampshire, where he engaged in commercial 
pursuits, which occupied his attention until the opening 
of the war of Independence summoned him to the field. 
When they heard of the conflict at Lexington, the peopJ«! 

VoT, L 27 313 



314 ENOCH POOR. 

of New Hampshire rushed to arms. At the first meeting 
of the Provincial Assembly at Exeter, after the commence 
ment of hostilities, that body voted to raise and equip two 
thousand men, to be formed into three regiments, to the 
command of which they appointed Colonels Poor, Stark, 
and Read. From this period until his death, in J 780, 
Poor was in constant service. 

When the enemy had abandoned the heart of New 
England, Colonel Poor was ordered with his regiment to 
New York ; and when the disastrous expedition against 
Canada was decided upon, he joined the invading forces 
under General Thompson. On the retreat from Canada, 
the Americans concentrated near Crown Point, and 
Colonel Poor was actively engaged in the defences of that 
post, until the council of officers was summoned by Gene- 
ral Schuyler to advise respecting its evacuation. The 
generals advised the abandonment of Crown Point, and 
a retirement to Ticonderoga, whiich was ordered by 
Schuyler ; but the inferior officers sent in a written remon- 
strance against this step, at the head of which were the 
names of Poor, Stark, and Maxwell. Their interference 
was looked upon as a breach of discipline, by Schuyler and 
Gates, and severe animadversions on both sides followed. 
The commander-in-chief, on being appealed to, declined 
reversing the decision of General Schuyler, but in his 
letters to both that officer and Gates, he concurred dis- 
tinctly in the opinions of Poor and Stark as to the im- 
policy of the measure, and exj^ressed regret that it had 
been decided upon, as he considered Crown Point the 
key of the lakes. 

In the beginning of 1777, Colonel Poor was appointed 
d brigadier-general, and attached to the army under the 
immediate command of Washington. He was with him 
in all the movements in the neighbourhood of the Dela- 
ware, until the retirement into winter quarters at Valley 
Forge. He witnessed the sufferings and destitution of 



CHARACTER AND DEATH. 315 

the £urmy during that dreary winter ; and no officer 
exerted himself with greater earnestness to provide relief. 
He invoked in the most earnest terras the aid of the legis 
lative body of New Hampshire : " I am every day be- 
holding their sufferings," he said, " and every morning 
waked by the lamentable tale of their distresses. They 
look up to me for relief, and it is not in my power to 
afford them any. If they desert, how can I punish them, 
when they plead in justification that the contract on your 
part is broken .'"'* 

In 1779, General Poor accompanied Sullivan upon his 
memorable expedition against the Indians of the Six 
Nations. He afterwards marched with his brigade under 
Lee to the Highlands. When that officer disgraced him- 
self at Monmouth, Poor was directed to join the division 
under Lafayette, and under the blazing sun of that sum- 
mer's noon mingled in Uie fiercest scenes of the battle. 
When the corps of light infantry was formed, in August, 
1780, it was arranged into two brigades, one of which 
was commanded by General Poor, and the other by Gene- 
ral Hand, and both were placed under Lafayette. 

General Poor died at Hackensack, New Jersey, of a 
bilious fever, after thirteen days' illness, on the 8th of Sep- 
tember, 1780. General Washington, in announcing the 
event to Congress, says, he was <' an officer of distin- 
guished merit, who as a citizen and a soldier had every 
claim to the esteem of his country." Congress ordered 
an extract from this letter to be published as a testimony of 
the high sense entertained by that body of the charactei 
and services of the deceased general. 

• Letter from General Poor to President Weare, of New Hampshire 
21>t January, 1778. 



BRICADIKil-GKNKIUL JAMF.S MOORE. 

In (lu; t)e<:;innin<T of 1776, Congress ordered General 
Lee to the coinmiiiKl of the soiilhern department, which 
embraced tlie states of Viroinia, North and South Carolina, 
and Georgia. Four brigadier-generals, created on 1st of 
March, were directed to join him, one of whom was Jamks 
MoouK, of North Carolina. 

Tiie patriotic citizens of this state were among tiie first 
to rally to the standard of liberty, and it is believed that 
uj)on her soil was shed the TmsI Tory blood in the Revolu- 
tion. There existetl here bands of " Highlanders," and 
«' Regulators ;" and the latter undertook to set law at 
defiance and reform the condition of society ; and when 
united with the former, in defence of the royal cause, 
they became a formidable body. CJenecal McDonald, 
one of the Highlanders, was apjjointed to the command, 
and erected [he. king's standard at Cross Creek, where 
Ins force amounted to fifteen hundred men. Upon in- 
timatit)U of this movement of the Torii-s, Colonel Mt)ore, 
at the head ol the first conlinental regiment raised in the 
j)rovince, and such j)ortion of the mililia of the district 
of VVilmitigtou as he could collect, took the field widi a 
few pieces of cannon, aiul halting near the bridge on 
Rocky river in the county of (^und)erland, about twi'lve 
miles from (^ross Creek, fortified a camp, and patiently 
sat down to wait their proceedings. In the mean while, 
Colonel Caswell and Colonel fiillington, who commanded 
ine minute men of the districts of Newbern and \Vd- 
nungton, joined by some parties of militia and a few 
volunteer corps, encamped on the bank of Moc re's creek, 
near its junction with the South river, in tiie county of 
New Hanover. 



CO RR ESPON n KN CK WITH M < I) O N A L I). 317 

Cf^ncral McDonald soon after marched towards Colonel 
Moore, but iialted at some distance from his camp, and 
sent in an officer charged with a letter bewailing the diffi- 
ciilly of his situation, and the fatal necessity of shedding 
blood, imposed by duty to his sovereign, while humanity 
prompted a wish that the calamity might be prevented by 
the tiinely submission of the colonel and his party to the 
laws, lie enclosed a copy of the gov(rn{)r's proclama- 
tion with his own manifesto, exjjressing a hope that Moore 
woidd coolly, imj)artially and deliberately weigh their 
coritenls, and pay them the regard they merited from 
every friend to the human species. In the king's name he 
offered to him and his olficers and men a free pardon for 
past transgressions, if they woidd lay down their arms 
and tal<(! the oath of allegiance ; and concluded, that, 
unless these terms were accepted, he must consider them 
as traitors, and lake the necessary steps to subdue them. 

Desirous of gaining time, Moore amused McDonald 
until he couUl no long<'r tempori/c;, and then rc]»lied, that 
his followers and himself were eiigaged in a cause the 
most liouourabh; in the w^orld, the defence of the rights 
of man, and that they needed no pardon. In return for 
the governor's |)roclaination, Ik; enclosed a copy of the 
test recpjired by ihe Provincial Congress to be subscribed 
by every ofhtier in the j)rovince ; invited him to add his 
name, and oiler it for the signature of his officers, and on 
their doing so, and laying down their arms, promised to 
receive them as brothers ; but concluded, that in case of 
their refusal, they could only exj)ect that treatment with 
which he had been pleased to threaten himself and his 
followers. 

Accounts reached McDonald's camp at the same time 
of the movements of Colonels Caswell and Lillington, and 
of the arrival of Sir Henry (Jlinton in Caj)e Fear rivei 
with a reinforcement. He now thought it dangerous to 
risk an action, and dreading to find himself surrounded, 

27* 



318 JAMES MOORE. 

dreamed of nothing but making his way to Wilmington 
to join the newly arrived troops. He decamped therefore 
without noise, and attempted by rapid marches to elude 
the pursuit of Colonel Moore. He crossed South river, 
and proceeding towards Wilmington, fell in with Caswell 
and Lillington, who with about one thousand men were 
encamped on the south-east side of the creek, where 
they had thrown up works for the defence of their camp. 
The force of the province was much inferior to that under 
McDonald, but the latter had the disadvantage of cross- 
ing the creek, and as Caswell had caused the planks to be 
removed from the bridge, if an attack were made, a re- 
treat would be but a precarious resource. It was, how- 
ever, determined to risk an encounter, and McDonald being 
disabled by indisposition from leading it, Colonel McLeod, 
the next officer in rank, placed himself at the head of the 
troops. They began with much vigour, and were re- 
ceived by the provincials with great coolness and bravery; 
but the hW of Colonel McLeod and several other officers, 
early in the battle, damped their spirits, and Colonel Cas- 
well having improved the first moment of apparent dis- 
comfiture to make an intrepid charge, the royalists 
were routed, and Hying in every direction : several were 
made prisoners — General McDonald himself among the 
number. 

The issue of this first engagement with the forces of 
government, was fortunate to the cause ; it increased the 
confidence of its friends, and filled its enemies with 
alarm, while it determined the course of a great part of 
those who had hitherto refrained from choosing their side. 

The Provincial Council of North Carolina, on the 4tb 
of March, passed a vote of thanks to Colonel Moore for 
his signal services in suppressing the insurrection of the 
Highlanders and regulators, and ordered it to be published. 

The military career of General Moore, thus honourably 
commenced, was suddenly closed. He fell a victim to 



JOHN PATTERSON, 



319 



the fever of the climate, dying while on his way to join 
the army under Washington. 

The family of General Moore was of the highest re- 
spectability. His grandfather, who was the first of the 
name in North Carolina, was appointed governor of the 
colony in 1705, and claimed descent from the Marquis 
of Drogheda, of Ireland. A. nephew of General Moore 
became distinguished as attorney-general and chief justice 
of North Carolina, and afterwards as an associate justice 
of the Supreme Court of the United States. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN PATTERSON. 

Berkshire county in Massachusetts is famous for the 
heroism displayed by her sons in the Revolution. On the 
morning of the battle of Bennington, it is said that one of 
her clergymen, who had led a portion of his flock to the 
field, remarked to General Stark, « We the people of 
Berkshire have been frequently called upon to fight, but 
have never been led against the enemy. We have now 
resolved, if you will not let us fight, never again to turn 
out." Stark asked him "if he wished to march then, 
when it was dark and rainy?" He answered, "No." 
«<Then," continued Stark, '< if the Lord once more gives 
us sunshine, and I don't give you fighting enough, I will 
never ask you to come again." The weather cleared up 
in the course of the day, and the men of Berkshire fol- 
lowed their spiritual guide into action, where they doubt- 
less did good service. 

John Patterson, of Lenox, in this county, was a 
member of the first Provincial Congress of Massachusetts, 
which assembled at Salem in October, 1774, and of the 
second Congress, which met at Cambridge in P^'ebruary, 
1775. He had already organized a regiment of minute 



320 JOHN P A T T i: U S O N. 

men, by voluntary onlisliiients, for ei<];ht months. The 
battle of Lexington was fouj^ht on the 19tii of April, 
1775 ; the news reached Berkshire on the 20th, about 
noon, and the next morning at sunrise, Patterson's regi- 
ment, consisting of ten companies, completely armed and 
generally in uniform, was on the way to Cambridge. 
Upon their arrival, they were employed in the erection of 
the first re(h)ubt erected on the lines about Boston. They 
mannotl and defended it on the memorable 17th of June, 
against the British advancing u])()n the rear of the Ame- 
ricans. 

After the evacuation of Boston, Colonel Patterson was 
ordered to Canachi, and after he reaclu'd Montreal, some 
)f his men were despatched to the Cechirs, and engaged 
m the disastrous battle at that place. In reticating from 
Canada, the reginuuit sjient a short time at Crown Point, 
(lien went to 'I'iconderoga, and crossed the bay and forti- 
iu'd Mount Independence, wlu're they remained until 
November, when they were marched to Albany, and 
through the Minisinlv counlry, Na/aretii, ai\d Bclhlehem, 
to the army under Washington, at Newtown in Pennsylva- 
nia, just soon enough to cross the Delaware with hiui and 
to t.iUe pait in the battles of Trenton and Piincelon. 

On llie 21st of Peljruary, 1777, Colonel Patterson was 
api)ointed a brigadier-general in the continental army, 
and was attached to the northern department. He was at 
the surrender of Burgoyne, and remained in service until 
tlie close of the war. During Shay's rebellion in Massa- 
chusetts, in 17}>(), CJeneral Patterson headed a detach- 
ment of the Berkshire militia ordered out for its suj[)j)res- 
sion. The evening of his life was passed in tranquillity^ 
upon his farm. 



BRIGAUll'lll-GKNl^niAL JAMKS RKED. 

If we look into the history of New Hampshire, we 
shall find that the people of that state had very little 
cause, aside from (licir love of lihcrly and a natural syin 
pathy with the other colonies, lor engaginj:^ in the Revolu- 
tion. The rule of Wentworth, the last of the royal 
governors in that province, had l>e<?n popular, and fore- 
seeing the storm, he had endeavoured as much as possi- 
ble to conciliate the people, hoping thus to secure the 
public tranquillity and effect a reconciliation with the 
mother country. Tht^re were hen: few personal injuries 
and no great family interests mixed up with the contest. 

Jamks Ri:i;n, of Fitzwilharn, was an o(Iic(;r of the 
militia, and when news of the events of Lexington 
reached his remote residence, he volunteered with his 
neighbours 1o engage in the conllicl. Four weeks after- 
wards, when the Provincial Congress voted to raise three 
regiments, the command of the second was given to 
Colonel Reed. He was present in the battle on the heights 
of Charlestown, on the 17th June, being pos1<'d with 
Stark on the left wing, behind a fence, from which they 
poured a destructive fire upon the advancing ranks of the 
British. After the evacuation of Boston by the enemy, 
the New Hampshire regiments went with Washington to 
New York, whence they were ordered up the Hudson, 
and into Canada, under the immediate command of Gene- 
ral Sullivan. The object of this movement was to rein- 
force the army which had been sent the preceding year 
against Quebec, and which was now retreatmg. Sullivan 
met them at the mouth of the Sond. Arnold, true to his 
mercenary character, was engaged in plund(;ring the 
Canadian merchants, under a pretence of supplying the 
X 32; 



322 JAMES REED. 

army: Thompson was a prisoner, and Thomas had died 
of the small-pox. The command, therefore, devolved 
upon Sullivan, who conducted the retreat with great pru- 
dence. At this time, many of the American soldiers had 
taken the infection of the small-pox, which raged with 
virulence among those from New Hampshire. Besides 
this disease, the dysentery and putrid fever prevailed to a 
considerable extent, and it was computed that nearly one- 
third of Colonel Reed's regiment died in the campaign. 
The sick were placed in batteaux, and with the cannon 
and stores drawn against the rapid current of the river, 
by men on shore or wading in the water ; and so close 
was the pursuit, that they could scarcely find time to 
kindle a fire, dress their food, or dry their clothes. At 
St. John's, the " enemy halted, and the remnant of the 
American force arrived on the 1st of July at Ticonderoga, 
whence. General Gates being in command, Sullivan re- 
turned to the main army at New York. 

Before arriving at Ticonderoga, Colonel Reed was 
attacked with the small-pox, from which he sufit?red 
greatly, and from the effects of which he never recovered. 
On the 9th of August he was appointed a brigadier-gene- 
ral upon the recommendation of General Washington. 
He had become so disabled, however, by disease, that he 
could render very little service, but he retained his ap- 
pointment with the hope of being able again to take the 
field. His desires, however, were disappointed : he quitted 
his bed nearly blind and deaf, and otherwise unfitted for 
active service. After a short time he retired from the 
army to his former residence in Fitzwilliam, where he 
lived many years, respected for his integrity and devotion 
to the best interests of his country. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL SETH POMROY. 

Seth Pomroy was from Northampton, Massachusetts. 
He entered the military service at an early age, and acteo 
a conspicuous j)art in the bloody battle of Lake George, 
in 1755. After the defeat of the French army on that 
occasion, the Baron Dieskau, its general, wounded in the 
leg, was found leaning on the stump of a tree, entirely 
alone, on the field where but a few hours before he had 
commanded an army flushed with success. While feeling 
in a pocket for his watch, to present to the soldier who had 
surprised him, the latter, supposing him to be searching 
for a pistol, discharged his musket at him, inflicting a 
wound which finally proved mortal, though he lived to 
reach England This soldier is believed to have been 
Seth Pomroy. 

The morning of the 17th of June, 1775, found Pomroy 
a volunteer in the camp of General Ward, at Cambridge. 
He held no commission in the line, but, hearing the 
artillery, could not resist the summons to the field. He 
requested General Ward to lend him a horse, and taking 
a musket, set off'at full speed for Charlestown. Reaching 
the Neck, and finding it enfiladed by a heavy fire of round, 
bar, and chain-shot, from the Glasgow ship of war, he 
Degan to be alarmed, not, as might be supposed, for his 
own safety, but for that of General Ward's horse. Too 
honest to expose the borrowed steed to " the pelting of 
this pitiless storm," and too bold to dream for a moment 
of shrinking from it himself, the conqueror of Dieskau 
dismounted, delivered the horse to a sentry, shouldered 
his gun, and marched on foot across the Neck. On 
reaching the hill, he tAok a station at the rail-fence, in the 

323 



324 JETHRO SUMNER. 

hottest of the oattle. His person was known to the 
soldiers, and his name rang witli shouts alon^r the line. 

A few days after the battle of liunker Hill eight briga- 
dier-generals were appointed by Congress, the first of 
whom w^as Colonel Pomroy. He had held a commission 
under Sir William Johnson, and commanded a regiment 
of the provincial militia ; but his appointment as senior 
brigadier causing some dilficulty in the adjustment of 
questions of rank, he declined it, and soon after retired 
to his farm. In the following year, however, when New 
Jersey was overrun by the enemy, he headed the militia 
of his neighbourhood, who marched to the Hudson river, 
and never returned from that expedition. He died at 
Peeivskill, in New York, in 1777. 



END OF VOL, I. 



WASHINGTON 



AMD 



THE GENERALS 



'American RcDolutiou. 



two VOLUMES COMPLETE IN ONB. 



WITH i'lNELY-ENORAVED P0RTEA1T8, 



FKOM ORIQIIfAL PICTUEBS. 



KEW EDITION, WITH COIlRECTIONa 



VOL. II. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
EDWARD MEEKS, 

1002 Walnut Stkeet. 



Copyright. 

EDWARD MEEKS. 

1885. 



CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 



FAOa 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN STARK 7 

His " Peculiarities" — Reflection on his Times — Youthful Adventures — 
A Prisoner with the Indiiins — War against France — Made a Captain — 
Reduction of Crown Point and Ticonderoga — 'I'wclve Years of Peace 
— Lexington — JJatlle of Uennington — His old Age and Deatii. 

MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM MOULTRIE 32 

Serves as Captain against the Clierokces in 17(il — Member of llie Con- 
gress of 1775 — Klectod Colonel — IJefence of Cliarleston — Fort Moultrie 
— Appointed u Urigadier-Ueneral — lOxpedition against Charlegloa — 
— His Cajjtivity — Memoirs — Governor of South Carolina — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH REED 58 

Washingioirs Opinion ofljim — Appointed a IJrigadier-General — Entraiice 
into tlieArmy — Secretary to Washington — Adjutant-General — Skirmish 
at New York — Services in New Jersey — Battle of Princeton — German- 
town — Plan of an Attank on New York — Valley Forge — I'resident of 
Pennsylvania — Again in Congress — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GREATON 83 

Sent into Canada — Made iirigadier-General. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN 84 

The Youth of Morgan — t/ampaign with IJraddock — A Captain of Pro- 
vincials — Campaign in Canada — Commands at Ciuebec — I'risoner — Re- 
joins the Army — The Cowpens — His Retreat — Correspondence with 
Jetferson — Tlie Whisky Insurrection — Death — Monument. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS MARION 105 

The Youth of<lhe Partisan — Service against the Cherokees — Burning of 
Ktchoee — Appointed Major — Siege of Savannah — Surrender of Charles- 
ton — Defeat of Gates — Daring F,xploits — 'I'arlelon Ballied — Colonel Lee 
— Marion in the Senate o( Soutli Carolina — Marriage — Close of hie Life. 

MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES LEE 131 

An Officer al eleven Years of Age — liis Professional Training — Serves 
at Louisburg, Sclieneclady, Ticonderoga, &c. — Returns to Kngland — 
Appointed liieutenanl-Colonel — Serves under Burgoyne in Portugal — 
Returns to Kngland, and corresponds with King Stanislaus on Ame- 
rica — Again in Warsaw — A|)pointed a Major-General — Fights against 
the Turks — Comes to America in 177:i — Appointed Major-General — 
Quarrel with General Heath — Taken Prisoner — Release — Battle of 
Monmouth — Meeting with Washington — Court Martial — Dismissed 
from the Army — Opinions — Death — Character. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL THOMAS MIFFLIN J$3 

Election to Congress — Aid-de-Camp to Washington — Brigadier-General 
— Covers the Retreat from Long Island — Appointed Major-General — 
In tlie Conway Cabal — Rejoins the Line of the Army — Again in Con. 
grass — His Political History and Dvutb. 

Ui 



'iV CONTENTS. 

MAJOR-GENERAL SAMUEL H. PARSONS 168 

Gradiiatps at ilnrvanl Collese— Stiuhos Law — Brigaclier-Oenoral— Ck)m- 
iiiaiuls the Conucolicul Line — .Mjijor-CJeiieral— rolilioal OlVices— Deulh. 

MAJOR. GENERAL BENJAMIN LINCOLN 169 

Lincoln's Hirili nuil Eiliicalion — Brig^ailierin tlie Militia — AliuckonFoTt 
Inilepenili-nct- — ALvjor-tleiioral — Aiiair al Hoinulbrook — Lake George — 
WouiuUhI — Ciii\ iVom Washington — ApponueJ to the Coinniaml ol" the 
southern Department — Siege ofSavannuh — Hrilish Descent on Charles- 
ton — Surrender of the City — At Yorktown — Appointed Secretary of 
>Var — Collector ol' Boston — Death, ujid Character. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL RICHARD IMONTGOMERY.... 183 
ICarly Lil'e ol" Monlgoniery — At the Sioiie ol" Loui-'ibnrg — Marriage- 
Appointed a Brigadier-General — Kxpedition to Canada — Dilhculties— 
Arnold — The I'liuus of Ahraluun — The Coiitlict — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN WIIITCOMB 187 

Distinguislied in the "Old French War" — Appointed Brigadier-Geueral. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN CADWALADER 188 

Appointed a Colonel — Condition of Alfairs at the Close of ITTli — Buttles 
of Trenton and Princeton — Appointed Brigadier-Geiieral in the Line- 
Assists in organizing the .Militiaof Maryland — Appointed Coniniander 
of Cavalry — Services at Brandywine and Gerinantown — Correspond- 
ence with Washington — Uesidence in Maryland — Death. 

MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM HEATH 194 

Karly I'ondness Tor military Alfairs — Colonel of the Siiifolk Regiment — 
Appointed Brigadier-Cieneral — Major-Geiieral — Summoiis ol l-'orl la- 
dependence-^At Yorktown — His Civil Life — Memoirs. 

MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN THOMAS 199 

Early F.dueulion — Services in the French War — A Brigadier-General — 
Diliiculty respecting Rank— Buiikor Hill — Dorchester Heights — Made 
a Major-General — Sent to Canada — Death — Character. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE CLINTON 203 

George Clinton in the War of lTo9-'lit) — .\ppointed Brigadier-General — 
Anecdote of his Kscape from Fort Montgomery — Chosen Governor- 
Political InlUience — Vice-rresident — Character. * 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES CLINTON 212 

Education — Early military Experience — Marriage — Appointed Briga- 
dier-Cieneral — At Yorktown — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL EBENEZER LARNED 218 

Commands one of the Massachusetts Regiments — Appointed I3rig;adier- 
General — Retires from the Army on Account of Illness. 

' MAJOR-GENERAL MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE 213 

Lafayette's Family — Marriage — Infcrest in American AiTairs — His Ar- 
rival in I'hiladelphia — Appointed Major-General — Interview with 
Washinglon — at Brandywint^ — Returns to France — Reception by the 
People and the Court — Again in America — Commands in Virginia — 
Major-General in the French Army — Commamls the National Guard 
— Compelled to leave Paris — ^Taken by the Austrions — Imprisonment 
at Magileburgand Olmuiz — Madame Lafayette — Washington's Attempt 
to Procure his Release — Liberated by Napoleon — Returns to Franco- 
Last Visit to America— Revolution of 1S30 — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL DEDORRE 930 



CONTENTS. T 

rxan 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL COUNT PULASKI 2M 

I'oland — Hi8 Ilirlli, and I'atriotic Services — Recoinmenuud liy Franklin 
aiul Washington — Appointed a Brigadier-General — lliH Position at 
'J'renlon — " l^ulaski's Legion" — Siege of Savannah — Wouniled — Dies. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM RUSSELL 242 

His Appointment — Services unimportant. 

MAJOR-GENERAL DUCOUDRAY 243 

Arrives in Philiidelphia — Inspector-Cieneral of Ordnance — Drowned. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL DE LA NEUVILLE 245 

Arrival iji America — Under General Gates — Unpopular — Retires. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL BARON STEUBEN 247 

Aid-de-Camp to Frederick the Great — Arrives in America — Major- 
General — I'repares a military Manual — At Valley Forge — Vorktowii. 

BRIGADfER-GENERAL BARON DE WOEDTKE 252 

A Major in the Army of the King of Prussia — Recommended to Con- 
gress by Dr. Franklin — Serves under Schuyler — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL TIIADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO 253 

Leaves Poland for America — Reception by Washington — Serves as F/n- 
giiieer under Greene — Appointed a Brigadier-General, and returns 
to Kurope — Revisits America — Returns to France — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ARMAND TUFIN 258 

Arrival in America — Appointed Colonel — Washington's Testimony re- 
specting his Services — At York (own — Brigailier-Gcneral — Death. 

MAJOR-GENERAL DUPORTAIL 262 

Arrival in America — Brigadier-General — Joins the Southern Army — A 
Prisoner — Applies for Promotion and Leave of Absence. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ROCHE DE FERMOY 265 

An Officer in the French Kngineers — J}rigadier-General iu the American 
Service — In Gates's Division— Retires from the Army. 

MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS CONWAY 266 

In the French .Service — Arrival in America — Appointed a Brigadier-Ge- 
neral — Resigns — Appointed Inspector-General — Associates of Con way 
in the "Cabal" — Duel with Cadwalader — Letter to Washington. 

MAJOR-GENERAL BARON DE KALB 269 

In the French Army — Appointed Major-Gencral by Congress — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN.... 272 
His Education — A Purser in the British Navy — Expedition against the 
Cherokees — Colonel of the First Carolina Regiment — Brigadier-Gene- 
ral — Imprisonment at St. Augustine — Exchanged — Chosen Governor. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES HOGAN 281 

A Member of the North Carolina I'rovincial Congress — Military Ser- 
vices — Appointed a Brigadier-General. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ISAAC HUGER 282 

The Huger Family — Education — Early military Experience— Services 
in Georgia— Fall of Charleston — End of the War— Huger's Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL MOSES HAZEN 290 

Canada — Destruction of Ilazeii's Property — He is appointed Colonel of 

"Congress's Own" — Services during the War — A Brigadier-General. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON 292 

Studies Medicine — Repairs to the Camp at Cambridge — A Captain — Aid 
to Gates — Lieut. Colonel — Again with Gates — Bearer of Lespatches to 
Congresi- Military and Civil Services — Dies in Mexico. 



n CONTENTS. 

MAJ OK -GENERAL THOMAS SUMTER 29ft 

Serves iiiulor I.oni Punniore — At Hrndilock's DeTent — Appointed I.ieu- 
tenaiu-Colonel — Fall of Churlestoii — Kecruilmg — Brigntlier-General in 
llie Slate Troops — Attacks Rocky Mount — Dcleat ol'Gnlcs — Surprised 
by Tarlelon — Defeats Weniyss — Atiair ol" Ninety-Six — Thanked by 
Congress — Dirticulty wiih Lee — Retires I'roin tlie Army — His Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL CHARLES SCOTT 319 

Colonel — Appointed a Brigadier-General — Taken Prisoner. 

MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES C. PINCKNEY 313 

A Captain under Gailsden — Aid-de-Cainp to Washington — In Howe'» 
Kxpedition against Florida — Assault on Savannah — Commands Fort 
Moultrie — .Appointed a Brigadier-General — iMinister to France — Ma- 
jor-General in the Provincial Aruiy — Pursuits of his old Age. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ROBERT HOWE 32J 

In the North Carolina Committee of Safety — Mardies into Virginia — 
Coniniaiuls at Norfolk — .Appointed Brigadier-General — Ivvpedition to 
Kasl Florida — Retreat — Fall of Savannah — Conmuinds at West Point. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH FRYE 324 

Karly military Career — .\t I-ouisliurg — Fort William Henry — Escape 
from the Indians — Appointed Brigadier-General — Resigns. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ARTEMAS WARD 325 

First IVIajor-General appointed by Congress — Connnands in Boston — Re- 
tires iVom the Army — Judicial Services — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL RUFUS PUTNAM 326 

Goes to Florida — Made a Brigadier-General — Counnands the Army 
against the Indians on the Wabash — Surveyor-tieneral. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS NASH 328 

In the North Carolina Militia — Appointed a Brigadier-General — lulled in 
the Battle of Germaiitovi-n. 

MAJOR-GENERAL ADAI\I STEPHEN 329 

Serves under Washington in the Indian Wars — Hrigadier-fJeneral in the 
Continental Army — .Major-General — Battle of Brandy wine. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ELIAS DAYTON 330 

A Colonel — Sent against Sir John Johnson — At Tieonderoga — Services 
in New Jersey — Appointed Brigadier-General. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL EDWARD HAND 331 

Joins the revolutionary Aru;y — Colonel — Services in the early Part of 
the War — Brigadier-General — Adjutant-General — Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL PETER MUHLENBURG 333 

Born in Pennsylvania — Minister oi a Lutheran Clmrch in Virginia — 
I\lade a Brigadier-(>eneral — Services in the War. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL ANDREW LEWIS 333 

His Services in the Indian Wars— .Miair with Major (Jrant— Commands 
the Virginia Troops— Brigadier-General — Resignation— Death. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL JEDEDIAH HUNTINGTON.... 339 
Educated at Harvard— Joins the Army— In the Affair at RidgeSeld — 
Brigadier-General — At Vaiiey Forge — His Civil Services. 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM MAXWELL 265 

Colonel of a New Arsey Regiment — In the Canada Campaign — Brig;a- 
Uio'-Gencral — At Brandywine and Germantown — Resignation. 



WASHINGTON 



AND THE 



GENERALS OF THE REYOLUTION 



BRIGADIER-GENEKAL JOHN STARK. 

It has been too much the cant of historians to s-peak of 
John Siark as a " peculiar man," — an "eccentric man ;" 
for ourselves, we neither understand nor like this easy way 
of escape from the analysis of a fine character. That he 
was nol an imbecile, inefficient, nor ordinary personage, is 
sufficiently evident from the position he gained, and the 
-variety of hazards which marked his career. On the 
other hand, he was a man of strong and unquestioned in- 
dividuality of character, having points of excellence in a 
high degree which ought to form the basis of every mind, 
so that the matter finally resolves itself simply into this, — 
John Stark was a fuller man than his neighbours, and 
hence they instinctively chose him their leader, and loved 
and honoured him, as few have ever been loved and 
honoured in his sphere of life. 

That John Stark might seem peculiar in a fashionable 

7 



8 



JOHN STARK. 



drawing-room we do not deny ; but such a man need no', 
be squared by laws so frivolous as prevail there, — nor by 
any laws except those concurrent with the usages of the 
people amid whom he was reared. He did not seen: 
peculiar to the accomplished Lord Howe,* who was some- 
thing better than a nobleman in the ordinary use of the 
term, when they often joined the hunt together, and when, 
the evening before the disastrous defeat of Ticonderoga, 
he sat side by side with the British peer in friendly chat, 
and Stark drank with him the last cup of tea he was ever 
destined to drink. Nor was he regarded as peculiar by 
the hardy band of Rangers who so often exulted in their 
leader; to them, he was a man of sterling integrity, of rare 
courage, directness and energy, and of a patriotism neither 
to be gainsaid nor questioned. 

That Stark never did reach the station to which his 
personal qualities and military abilities might justly have 
entitled him, was owing to no peculiarities of his own, but 
to that want of expanded judgment and clear discrimina- 
tion of character, so deplorably apparent in the members 
of Congress at that time in regard to all military affairs. 
Much of the evil arising from this source was obviated by 
the personal influence of Washington ; but the injustice by 
which the magnanimous Schuyler suffered, and which 
finally drove the unprincipled Arnold to infamy and trea- 
son, is now too much a matter of history to admit of de- 
nial. That nice sense of honour so essential to the dignity 
of the military man, was hardly a recognisable sentiment 
to men newly brought from their farms, counting-rooms, 
and professional closets, to the duties of legislation ; these 



• Mrs. Grant, in her admirable work — " Memoirs of an American 
Lady" — adverts graphically and most touchingly to the circumstances of 
this disastrous period. The revered Madame Schuyler had conceived a 
maternal attachment for this young nobleman, and her grief at the report 
of his death was most affecting in one of such remarkable equanimity. It 
was of this Lord Howe that Lee said, " Had he lived I should have re- 
gretted to find myself in the ranks of his opponents." 



REFLECTIONS ON THE TIMES. 9 

duties likewise lo be discharged amid the embarrassments 
of national poverty and the horrors of war. 

That such men should make many and grievous mis- 
ia.ces, which we, at this distant day, can clearly discern, 
IS less surprising than that historians should deny justice 
to those who failed to receive it at their hands; their 
errors may be abundantly palliated by the stress of the 
times, but we can only account for the pertinacity of those 
who can see no blindness in the Congress of the day, ex- 
cept by supposing they are bent upon holding up this 
body as a modern Areopagus, whose decisions are beyond 
dispute. 

As a people we had been too long dependent to walk 
alone, with a free step ; our government had been subordi- 
nate, — our military subordinate, — and, to this day, we are 
hardly exempt from the subordination of intellect thus 
engendered ; in the church only had we been left to the 
free action of our own resources, and, natural enough, the 
mind busied itself largely with the subjects of the divine. 
In this state of things it is not surprising, however much 
we may deplore the fact, that mistakes should arise from 
this as well as other causes. But when we remember that 
through such a contest, amid the hardships of poverty, 
which, of itself, is so apt to tempt astray, — to weaken the 
energies, and damp the courage of men ; when we reflect 
that through a period so disheartening and protracted, 
where brother was often armed against brother, parent 
against child, and friend opposed to friend, that but one 
solitary instance of treason occurred, — that but one man was 
found base enough to barter his honour and his country for 
gold, it speaks volumes in behalf of the virtue and devotion 
which marked the character of the people. In view of 
these things we should exclaim, with the gratitude of 
those who from this small beginning have become great 
.n the earth, — " Surely it is of God, and he hath gottep us 
the victory.'- 



10 J H N S T A R K. 

We draw no picture of the fancy, but a stern reality 
that might be proved in a thousand instances ; — men, who 
had served side by side in the " old French war," as it is 
now familiarly called, found themselves foe to, foe in the 
war of the Revolution. It was so in the Stark family, 
where the truth of that assertion, — " a man's foes shall be 
they of his own household," was most painfully verified. 
William Stark, the elder brother of John, had fought at 
Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and encountered the battle 
on the Plains of Abraham, by the side of the gallant Wolf; 
but, in all these cases, the path of duty was not easily 
mistaken. Years rolled on, and the battles of Lexington 
and Concord cast the affairs of the country into a new 
shape, and this was indeed the time that tried men's souls. 

Now the question must be decided, every man to him- 
self — king or country ! Men wavered — the stoutest hearts 
fell at the fearfulness of the crisis — but it was but for a 
moment, and the foot was planted in the very s'pirit of the 
thrilling words of Scott, " My foot is on my native heath, 
and my name is Macgregor." Scarcely had the smoke 
cleared from the battle field of Lexington, and the pulse of 
the determined few been stilled for ever, ere Stark and Put- 
nam, and others of kindred spirit, had left literally the 
plough in the unturned furrow, and were on the road to 
lend their strength for freedom and the right. No more 
hesitation existed now — the lines were drawn, and they 
must abide the issue. William Stark is now a colonel in 
the British army, and John in that of the American- 
brother against brother. 

At the battle of Bunker Hill the services of John Stark 
were felt and acknowledged even by our enemies. Just 
before the opening of the conflict, some one asked Gene- 
ral Gage whether he thought cne provincials would hazard 
the assault of the royal troops. "Yes," was the reply, 
«* if one John Stark is amongst them — he served un Jer lae 
at Lake George, and was a brave fellow." 



BIRTHOFSTARK. 11 

It. wa3 at this battle that an incident occurred which 
places his invincible character in a strong light. Let it be 
remembered, that this is the man who afterwards incited 
his men to enthusiasm, at the battle of Bennington, with 
the simple appeal — "We must conquer, my boys, or Molly 
Stark's a widow" — a speech which, while it betrayed the 
tenderness of feeling tugging at his own heart, touched a 
chord in every other.* In the heat of action at Bunker 
Hill, a soldier reported to Stark, that his son, a youth of 
sixteen, had perished on the field. " Is this a time for 
private grip/, with the foe in our face?" was the stern re- 
buke of the ftither, as he ordered the man back to his duty. • 
We yield the point at length — S;ark was peculiar — he had 
the hardihood and patriotism of a Roman general. Thank 
God! the report was false, and we trust the youth lived 
long to fighr the battles of his country, and to do honour 
to the gray hairs of such a father. 

But we must resume more the order of time. The family 
of Stark was of Scotch origin, being descended from the 
iron followers of John Knox, who thus found the doc- 
trines of the New England settlers congenial with their 
own. He was born in Londonderry, New Hampshire, on 
the 28th of August, 1728. His fa;her was a sturdy la- 
bourer, and John, till nearly twenty-five, continued to 
lend his aid to the support of the family, at which time 
nis career opens to the public. Hitherto he had laboured 
in hunting, tra[)ping, and subduing the soil — avocations 
often severe and hazardous in a new country, but which 
serve to impart a wonderful degree of physical power and 
mental resource. Now in connection wilh his brother 
William, and two others by the name of Eastman and 

• The writer, when a child, heard an old veteran describe, in glowing 
terms, the battle of Bennington, and dilate upon the bravery of Stark 
with all the fervour of one who knew " how fields were won." He gave 
the above as the exact vvords of this pithy address. There is something 
peculiarly endearing in this frank, homely use of Molly, instead of Marv. 
at such a time. 



12 JOHN STARK. 

Stir.son,he started upon a hunting excursion to the north- 
western part of the state, at that time an entire wildernes.;, 
infested with wild beasts, and known to be the resort of 
great numbers of Inrlians by no means friendly. 

These conditions were far from deterring the daring 
youlh of the frontier, who loved peril and adventure too 
well to be daunted at the cry of " Indian" or " bear," as the 
case might be. They pursued their sport with great ani- 
mation till they lighted upon an "Indian trail," which cer- 
tainly ought to have admonished caution. Two days after, 
John, being a little in advance of his party, for the pur- 
pose of collecting traps, was seized upon by the Indians, 
who demanded the direction taken by his companions. 
Stark pointed the opposite way in the hope they might 
escape, but they, becoming alarmed at his absence, fired guns 
as signals for him to follow them, and thus betrayed their 
position. When overtaken, William Stark and Stinson 
were already in the boat, (this was upon Baker's river,) 
and Eastman standing upon the shore. John screamed to 
them to pull to the opposite shore — to let him and East- 
man go — and escape for their lives. The enraged savages 
raised their guns to fire, and the intrepid man knocked 
them into the air. Another party attempted the same thing, 
and he sprang forward in time to save his brother, but 
poor Stinson was mortally wounded. William was 
obliged to make the best of his way homeward, leaving 
Eastman and the younger Stark in the hands of the savages, 
who did not fail to beat the latter most unmercifully, for 
his interference with the range of their bullets. 

The Indians now took their way to St. Francis's, whither 
they had already conveyed Eastman ; the mettle of Stark 
beinrr so much to their mind, he had been detained on the 
route to finish his hunting enterprise under his new niasters, 
and his skill being found so very considerable, he was al- 
lowed the rights of proper*;y in the game thus secured. 
A.riived at St. Francis's, he and his companion were sub- 



ORDEAL OF THE GAUNTLET. 13 

jected to the ordeal of ihe gauntlet — a Spartan-like cere- 
mony, held in high estimation amongst these people, and 
which, indeed, is a part of savage education. It is thus 
that the youih of the tribe, by seeing the indignities to 
which the chances of war subject the captive, learn that 
fierce and deadly courage, which made death preferable to 
defeat or dishonour, and which rendered them so terrible 
upon the battle-field. It was a piocess by which the 
youth were trained up to fdl the positions now occupied 
by the old and tested warriors of their people, who, sitting 
by widi all the dignity and composure of men who have 
been long tried and approved, marked with smiles the 
skill and dexterity of their sons, as they eagerly watched 
the moment at which they might, each in turn, inflict his 
blow upon the flying victim. 

The ordeal must have been severe to the most athletic, 
and poor Eastman was half killed by the action. Not so 
John Stark ; he was lithe as a sapling, strong and fear- 
less. He knew the nature of those about him ; and had it 
not been so, his own audacity afforded lesson enough. He 
sprang like a wild animal which had been confined, and 
suddenly loosed. With the speed of the antelope, he 
dashed down the line of eager and well-armed youth, — ■ 
seized at the onset a club from the hand of the first in the 
rank, and thus leaping into the air, and striking right and 
left, he cleared his assailants, leaving them scattered and 
abashed. Like the classical heroes of old, his generous 
foes were loud in their approval. The old men wer^^ de- 
lighted at the severe lesson thus taught their youth ; and 
they, in turn, learned to treat with deference a man who 
confronted peril with so high a spirit. Nor was this all ; 
he was get to hoe corn, and he carefully left the weeds in 
clumps, and cut every spear of grain ; this they thought 
unskilful enough, and, being better instructed, he waa 
■igain put to the task. This time Stark tossed his hoc into 

Vol. II. 2 



14 J O M N S T A R K. 

the river, declaring it was "work for squaws, not war- 
riors." This conduct completed the enthusiasm of his 
ca|>tors, ar)d they at once called a council, in which he 
was formally invested with the dignity of chief, and shared 
in the honours and successes of the tribe. 

Stark remained many months with these simple and 
appreciating people, and never failed to recur with plea- 
sure to the subject in after life, declaring that he received 
from these Indians more genuine /dndness than he ever 
knew prisoners of war to receive from any civilized nation. 
The eventful life of Stark certainly afforded him ample 
opportunities for judging, he having served through the 
seven years' war, as well as that of the Revolution, making 
about fifteen years passed mostly in the camp. At a subse- 
quent period, the war with the French and Indians rendered 
it necessary to destroy the St. Francis tribe of Indians, 
whose atrocities were augmented by the presence of their 
witty and mercurial confederates. Stark had been sent 
upon an expedition farther east, at which he was greatly 
rejoiced, as it spared him the painful task of inflicting evil 
upon a people at whose hands he had received kindness. 

He was at length ransomed by the Commissioners of 
Massachusetts, the General Court of that state having a 
" fund for the release of captives," — a painful comment 
upon the times. As New Hampshire never refunded this 
money, Stark did so himself, raising the required sum by 
his own labour. The Indians demanded for Stark, " the 
young chief," whom they had adopted, and whose Indian 
cognomen is now probably lost, a hundred and three del 
lars, out Eastman they relinquished for sixty. 

Stark was by no means satisfied with llie result of liis 
hunting excursion, and tlie next year he started upon a 
similar enterprise. In this way, partly as a hunter, and 
partly as agent of the New Hampshire government, he 
travelled over a greater portion of the wild region oi Ver- 



COLONIAL DELEGATION AT ALBANY. 15 

mont and New Hampshire, and was the first to explore \he. 
fine meadows of the Connecticut, where Haverhill ana 
Newbury now stand. 

At length the encroachments of the French, upon the 
North American continent, awoke the attention of the 
British government. Perceiving the whole western coast 
to be occupied by the English, it became the policy of the 
French to prevent their extension west. For this pur- 
pose, by means the most adroit, and carried on with the 
greatest possible secrecy, their agc^nts, with admirable 
skill, and the most untiring energy, had explored the 
whole of that vast region included in the valleys of the 
Mississippi, the Ohio, and the St. Lawrence. In this 
Work they had been greatly aided by the Cadiolic mis- 
sionaries, who had long laboured in these regions, and 
engaged warmly the afl'ections of the natives. It was now 
evident to the dullest eye, that the French, backed by a 
whole wilderness of savages, were determined upon a 
great western empire, which was to be secured and de- 
fended by the establishment of fortifications upon suitable 
points throughout this vast water communication, through 
the St. Lawrence, the great lakes, the Ohio and Missis- 
sippi rivers, to the Gulf of Mexico. 

The most strenuous efforts were necessary to defeat a 
project so destructive to the interests of the British govern- 
ment. Companies were formed, and a convention of re- 
presentatives from each of the colonies was called to meet 
at Albany, and adopt the measures requisite on the occa- 
sion. This was in 1754, and it is a curious fact, that the 
first compact of union by the several colonies, was made 
at this time, and signed at Albany, in the state of New 
York, the fourth of July, and from this circumstance, 
should the day be twice memorable to our peop.e. 

Thus the two powers were fairly in the field, France 
and England, and we, as subjects of the British crovvn, 
^vere doinjr our utmost to relieve ourselves from the sai 



15 JOHN STARK. 

gulnary atrocities of savage warfare, and from the encroach 
ments of a people who should hereafter become our allies 
m the great struggle for our independence. An expedi- 
tion was planned against Fort Du Quesne, to be intrusted 
to General Braddock. whose defeat and death have made 
this unfortunate enterprise so interesting in our annals, and 
where the skill of Washington first became conspicuous; 
a second was to attack Fort Niagara; and a third detach- 
ment, consisting of New England troops alone, was to in- 
vest Crown Point. A corps of rangers, under Robert 
Rogers, was enlisted in New Hampshire, and Stark, well 
known for his efliciency in all hazardous service, received 
his first commission under this otficer. In the mean while 
a large body of French and Indian troops were known to 
be in the field, ready to invest Fort Edward. It was 
ascertained that the enemy were stationed about four miles 
to the north of the fort, and the Anglo-Americans deter- 
mined to meet them there. It had been the design of the 
French commander to surprise and surround our army, and 
this might have been accomjilished but for the acute in- 
stincts of our Mohawk allies ; Hendricks, their chief, 
having perceived the approaches of the Canadian Indians, 
and brought on the engagement. The enemy so far out- 
numbered our people, that a retre;it became urgent, after a 
severely contested battle, in which the French commander 
fell, and on our own side, Colonel Williams, a brave otfi- 
cer, who headed the deiachment, together with the gallant 
Hendricks, chief of the Mohawks, 

The retreating troops were met by a reinforcement, and 
now awaited the army on the border of the lake. A breast- 
work of trees was hastily thrown up, and several cannon 
irom Fort Edward mounted, ready to greet the approach- 
ing foe. The enemy appeared confident of victory, un- 
conscious of the aid thus received. The first opening of 
the artillery tolil a story they were little prepared to re- 
ceive — the Indians have the greatest horror of diis species 



THE FRENCH DEFEATED. 17" 

ot' defence, and they fled to the swamp, leaving .he brunt 
of the battle to the French, who were soon routed, and 
obhged to take their turn in retreat, followed by our 
triumphant Rangers, who halted at length upon the spot 
where the battle had been fought in the inornhig. In the 
mean while, a detachment from our army at Fort Edward 
met the flying foe, and drove them back upon our people. 
The victory was complete — tltree battles having been 
fought in one day. Baron Dieskau, the commander of the 
French forces, was wounded and taken prisoner in the se- 
cond engagement. Near the place of contest was a small 
pond, into which the dead, both friend and foe, were cast, 
mingling their ashes together, which has since been called 
the Bloody Pond. 

For a period of nearly two years, little was done in the 
way of decided action, although detachments of the army 
were constantly on the alert to harass and disturb the 
enemy, and prevent farther encroachments. Stark was 
active in scouting parties, in reconnoitring, and exploring, 
and all things were in readiness for more decisive action, 
when the need for such should occur. 

In the middle of January, 1757, we find our company of 
Rangers^ consisting of seventy-four men, iricJuding officers, 
marching with incredible labour towards Lake Champlain 
— breasting the cold and ice of the lake, and making 
their way by means of snow-shoes. Arrived at length 
midway between Crown Point and Ticonderoga, they per- 
ceived sleds laden with provisions, &c., passing down from 
the former to the latter fort. After attempting an unsuc- 
cessful surprise, they succeeded in the capture of seven 
prisoners, three sleds, and six horses, the rest having ef- 
fected their escape. 

The day was intensely cold, and the rain and sleet 
nearly blinded the eyes of the hardy little band. From the 
information gained through the prisoners, they had no 
doubt that the enemy would immediately be out in the 



18 JOHNSTARK 

pursuit; accordingly, they fell back upon the camp, 
where fires were still burning, in order to dry their guns 
and be in readiness for action. Tliey marched in the style 
of rangers, single file, and had proceeded about a mile, 
when, having mounted a hill, they encountered the enemy 
drawn up to receive them, who instantly gave a discharge; 
they not being over five yards from the van, and no 
more than thirty from the rear of our party, while the foe 
were two hundred strong. Rogers was wounded at the 
first fire, and Lieutenant Kennedy killed — a general action 
ensued, with doubtful success on either side — each endea- 
vouring to oul-mancDUvre his enemy — a retreat was hinted — 
Stark declared he would shoot the first man who (led — 
they should fight while an enemy could be seen, and then 
if they must retreat, they would do so under cover of the 
night, which was their only security. Major Rogers was 
now wounded a second time, and Stark was almost the 
only odicer unharmed; a shot broke the lock of his gun, 
and he sprang forward, seized one from the hand of a 
wounded Frenchman, still cheering his men to action. The 
wound of the commander bled profusely — a soldier was or- 
dered to sever the cue from the head of Rogers and thus 
" plug up the hole through his wrist," and with this new 
mode of surgery he was able to survive the fight. The 
battle commenced at two, and was continued till the night 
rendered farther conflict impossible, and the exhausted 
troops ceased to combat. 

The snow was four feet upon a level — the cold se- 
vere — yet the little body of Rangers, wasted and disabled, 
were obliged to pass the night under the fatigues of a re- 
treat ; their wounded were stiif and bleeding, and the 
didiculties of the march increased momentarily. The 
wounded were unable to advance farther on foot, and 
they were forty miles from Fort William Henry, where 
only relief could be obtained. Nothing daunted, John 
Stark and two others started upon snow-sho»js to ♦ravel 



STARK PUOMOTED TO A CAPTAINCY. 19 

this long distance, in order to bring relief to their dying 
and disabled companions. 

He reached ihe fort, a distance of forty miles, by 
evening of the next day, and the nnorning light saw them, 
with aid and comfort, ready to resume their retreat. No 
man, without the iron frame of Stark, could possibly have 
achieved this ; and no one, with a heart less warm and 
energetic, would have been prompied to travel eighty 
miles, one half of it on foot, after having sustained a battle 
of many hours ; and all this without the intervention ot 
sleep. He was promoted to the rank of captain, on this 
occasion. Fort William Henry .subsequently capitulated 
to the French, and the melancholy prisoners of war met 
the fate which Stark anticipated for his gallant Ranrers, 
had they been forced, by an ill-timed retreat, to surrender. 
They were all dragged out, and tomahawked by the Indian 
allies of the French. 

Stark was actively efficient in the expedition aj^ainst 
Ticoiideroga, and shared the perils of that most disastrous 
enterprise, in which perished Lord Howe — brother to 
him who subsequently headed the British army in the war 
of the Revolution. Stark was warmly attached to this 
nobleman, who had often joined his band of Rangers, to 
learn their mode of warfare, and witness their skill and 
readiness of action. 

At the defeat of Ticonderoga, in which five hundred 
regulars were killed, and twelve hundred wounded, and 
of the colonial corps one hundred killed, and two hundred 
and fifty wounded, the British still twice outnumbered the 
French ; notwithstanding this, a hasty retreat was or- 
dered — but Lord Howe had been killed at the first onset of 
battle, and the Rangers of Rogers and Stark had covered 
themselves with glory, had been first and last at the post 
of danger, and now they must turn upon their steps, and 
leave their friends unavenged. To whatever cause these 
disasters may be imputed, whether, as Stark btlieved, to 



20 JOHNSTARK. 

the reaciion caused by the death of Howe, or to the ineffi- 
ciency of the British ofTicers, it is difficult, at this late day, 
to determine ; but the army could only see the disgrace, 
without the ab.lity to apply the remedy. 

After this, the brunt or the service fell upon the New 
Hampshire Rangers, in which various battles were fought, 
scarcely noted in history, and only important as keeping 
the enemy at bay. In one of these Israel Putnam, of in- 
trepid memory, was engaged ; and being taken prisoner, 
he was tied to a tree, within range of the shots of both 
parties. As his Indian captors passed and repassed the 
tree of their victim, th^ would amuse themselves by 
slinging their tomahawks into the bark above his head — 
a test of dexterity which even the stout Putnam might have 
been willing to decline. The enemy were at length 
routed, but succeeded in bearing him into captivity. The 
sufferings and adventures of this brave man are now the 
theme of every schoolboy's winter evening tale, and this 
is not the place for their relation. 

The following year a more successful enterprise reduced 
Ticonderoga and Crown Point to the Anglo-American 
arms. In this expedition Stark, as usual, displayed the 
hardihood of his northern Rangers with all the pride of a 
soldier. Had these successes been followed up with the 
required promptitude, the noble Wolf might have been 
spared the disasters of Quebec; but General Amherst went 
into winter quarters early in autumn, leaving that officer 
without the co-operation he had been led to expect for the 
reduction of Canada. 

The final peace concluded between the two countries 
closed this hazardous and bloody species of warfare, in 
which, however conducted, while allies are made of the 
original occupants of the soil, atrocities too terrible for 
detail must ensue. The frontier settlement, the defence- 
less pioneer, and the insufficient garrison, are each and 
all exposed to the most shocking cruelties, and cold- 



PEACEOF TWELVE YEARSi 2l 

olooded outrage. The historian and the poet have each 
celebrated the destruction of Wyoming, the burning of 
Schenectady, and the fate of Jane M'Crea; but these re- 
cords, while they cast a veil of interest over the scenes 
they delineate, can in nowise soften their more than tragic 
terrors. 

A peace of twelve years ensued during which the 
colonies had time to recover from the protracted and ex- 
hausting warfare in which they had been engaged. Major 
Rogers disbanded his corps of Rangers, in which Captain 
Stark had served through the "seven years' war," and 
now entered permanently into the British service — where 
the war of the Revolution found him opposed to his old 
brother in arms. 

Melancholy as are the details of the French and Indian 
war, it nevertheless developed largely the resources of our 
own people ; and by rendering them familiar with war, 
and the best modes of conducting it in a new and wide- 
spread territory — by making them at home in the camp, 
and in military usages, drew their attention from the 
pettiness of sectarian and civilian life, and from the mean- 
ness of trade, conducted, as it then was, not as a broad 
system of commerce, but as a species of subordinate barter, 
developed or hindered by the caprice or policy of the 
higher power across the water. These things would have 
naturally served to narrow down the views of men, and, 
by confining them to the usages of a people condemned to 
the thousand toilful expedients of a new country, would 
have tended greatly to throw back the progress of enlight- 
ened civilization ; but the intervention of a war brought 
them into intimate contact not only with the exasperated 
original owners of the soil, which must have called forth 
all their sagacity and all their hardihood, but likewise into 
companionship with the first representatives of the two 
most enlightened and polished nations on the globe. 

The subsequent twelve years of peace gave them time 



22 JOHN STARK. 

to rally fiom the sufferings of warfiire — gave them leisure 
to culiivale ihe carlli, bocome niiniliar with the needs and 
the blessings of life — time to rear families and deepen the 
sentiments of love and attachment to the soil. The stiong 
men, who were to be the hereafter fathers of the republic, 
were found, at this period, busy in all the otliees of good 
citizenship — <» diligent in business" — gathering thought 
and strength from the experience of the past, and looking 
to the I'uture, not with idle iliscontent, but with the com- 
posure of men willing to bide their time, knowing their 
own strength. We find Stark not inactive ; subsequently, 
when disappointment anil injusliee comj)elled him to re- 
tire for awhile from the high and honourable duty of a 
soldier, he marshalled forth his ybur sojis, and sent them, 
with a father's and a patriot's " God speed," to fight a 
good fight for their country. 

The sword had been beaten into ploughshares, and the 
spear into pruning-hooks, and we were loth to see too much 
even when feeling most the evils of the measures of the 
British government in regard to her colonies. The bless- 
ings of peace were too sure and immediate to be lightly 
hazarded, and our people remonstrated, appealed, and for- 
bore till the iron entered the very soul — till not to resist was 
to betray the great interests of humanity, to be false to God, 
to our country, and our children. We have been called 
an irritable, unmanageable people — we say nothing of 
what we are now, but prior to the Revolution, we were 
certainly a good-natured, rather tame people, in our subor- 
dination. We loved England so well, beholding in her 
all that was great as a nation, and powerful in intellect, 
and were proud of our relation to her, and childishly — we 
had almost said foolishly — were we attached to her insthu- 
tions. We loved her lavi's when wisely administered, and 
that we might keep fast hoUl of the liberty therein guaran- 
tied, we were finally roused to resistance; not to escape 
her authority, but that we might cling to the 'ights of Bri- 



N E C K S S I T V OF THE U K V O L U T I O N. 23 

tish subjects — good-natured as we were, affectionate and 
devol(;d as we were in our attachment to England, ours 
was no blind devotion, no imbecile amiability — ourisf)lated 
position rendered us clear in our views of legislative jus- 
tice, and firm in our exactions of right ; when, therefore, 
the emergencies of the times made it fitting and necessary, 
not only for us to make a stand against oppression, but 
also to put forth our strength for a national birth, we were 
not easily soothed, nor easily terrified into submission. 

At length the affairs of the country reached their crisis — 
the 19th of April witnessed the first blood shed, not in re- 
bellion, but for the defence of human rights upon this cow- 
tinent — not for glory, nor territory, nor perishable goodj, 
but for the great and inalienable rights of free-born mei, ; 
the blood shed, was -not for ourselves alone, not for our 
children only, but for all the great family of man, who 
should henceforth learn to hold fast to the principles of 
human and national justice. It would be well if England 
could learn from her experience through us, to loose her 
iron grasp upon unhappy Ireland, before her terrible day 
of retribution shall come. 

The battle of Lexington passed like a thrill throughout 
the country. Every portion of it was ready with its co- 
operating response, and Stark, within ten minutes of the 
tidings, had buckled on his sword, and was on the way to 
the spot where brave hearts and true service were most 
needed. On his way, he called upon all who loved their 
country and its free heritage, to meet him at Medford — 
while he should go on and see what must first be done. 
Twelve hundred men answered the summons, and from 
these he organized two regiments ready for action under 
the provincial authority. 

Then came the ever memorable seventeenth of June, in 
which battle, the thoroughly drilled and finely ordered 
royal army, found itself worsted by men who came to the 
contest fresh from the recently turned furrow, stained with 



^4 J O U N S T A R K. 

the Just of travel, and the effects of labour — wno h^i] 
dropped ihe implements of trade, or turnoil aside the 
learned tome to grasp sword and musket — who slood up 
before a disciplined and lavishly accoutred soKliery, in the 
plain garb of citizen and yeomen, with powder-horn in 
lieu of cartridge-box, and bullet /ia77i7ncred down to the 
size of the rusty and uncouth musket — men who found no 
time for elaborate defence, but with sinewy hands wrested 
the rail fence from its position and planting it by the side 
of a stone wall, filled the space between with the new hay, 
which the rake and scythe had but just left, and behind 
this hasty breastwork, stood up for God and the right. 
Onward came the foe, in full military order, with banner 
and spirit-stirring drum, and fife, and many a jest at the 
expense of those who came forth to the British soklier, a 
whining, nasal, raw, antl ludicrous throng, who talked in 
this wise : 

" Father ami I wont down to camp, 

Along with Oap'n Gooil'in, 
Anil tliere we see the men ami boys 

As Uuck as hasty puddin'. " 

Onward they came, each with his bold, handsome front, 
till the sturdy yeomen, bearing his horn of powder, could 
see " the white in the eye of his foe," and then arose a 
volley that caused these stout men to stagger backward, 
and to feel that an uncouth garb, and an uncouth tongue, 
are only ridiculous when debased by an internal debase- 
ment — but when armed with the majesty of a noble pur- 
pose, and swelled by the eloquence of a high sentiment, 
become more than regal in their calm and sublime energy. 
Stark with his New Hampshire volunteers, fully sustained 
the reputation acquired in the seven years' war. He was 
in the hottest of the battle, and his stout heart forgot, as 
we have before related, every feeling but the patriot sol- 
dier, in this great stand for freedom. The brave soldiers 
of the British moved up company after company, against 



EFFICIENCY OF STARK. 20 

thesfi rude fighters behind the grass fence, only to be shot 
down the moment presented, till scarcely a half dozen was 
left in a company to tell the tale of ihose stoui farmers be- 
hind their embankment of hay. 

The contest for our rights continued with various suc- 
cess, and we find Stark always ready at his post, prepared 
for danger, and efficient in every service of trust or diffi- 
culty. Sixteen years after his exploits at 'i'iconderoga, in 
the French war, he is again upon the old battle-field, and 
hears the declaration of our independence read to his 
brave soldiers, who listened with shouts of applause. 
Then follow the disasters of New York — the army is im- 
poverished, disheartened, and compelled to retreat before 
a foe flushed with victory, and made brave by all the com- 
forts and appliances of a well appointed army. 'I'he 
strongest hearts are well nigh crushed at the difficulties 
which surround us. Various expedients are devised — 
Washington, wonderful as he was, for that god-like slate 
of mind enjoined by Jesus — "in your patience, possess ye 
your souls," must have often been tempted to despair in 
that gloomy and most portentous period. Impelled to 
action he could not as yet risk his naked, barefoot, and 
hungry men, worn by disease and travel, and shivering 
wiih cold, before his powerful adversary. Stark writes of 
this period, " Your men have long been accustomed to 
place dependence upon spades and pickaxes for safety, 
but if you ever mean to establish the independence of the 
United States, you must teach them to rely upon their fire- 
arms." 

Washington, nothing irritated at the boldness of his 
officer, hailed with joy the spirit of daring which it 
implied, wrote instantly in return — " This is what we 
have agreed upon. We are to march to-morrow upon 
Trenton. You are to command the right wing of the ad- 
vanced guard, and General Greene the left." 

The success of this most dilficult enterprise is one of 
Vol. II. 3 



26 JOHNSTARK. 

the proudest triumphs of the American arms, and can onlv 
be appreciated by a survey of the whole mass ot sufi'ering 
and disheartenment to which these staunch advocates fo: 
freedom were subjected at the time. Then followed thi 
battle of Princeton, and these signal tokens of success in- 
fused life and hope into the whole country. In the midsi 
of these better auspices, the army seemed likely to disap 
pear at the moment of our greatest need. The term ol 
enlistment of the men had expired, and we cannot wondet 
that people who had suffered so much should desire a mo- 
mentary respite from their toil. Temporary enlistments 
were effected through the personal and sectional influence 
of the patriots of the day. Hundreds, whose names have 
never reached us, threw their whole fortunes into the 
cause. Women denied themselves the elegancies and 
luxuries of life, to promote the great national cause. 
Stark stood foremost on this occasion. The enthusiasm 
of his men for their leader induced the regiment, to a man, 
to re-enlist for six weeks, till the country should find space 
to breathe. 

In the meanwhile he returned to New Hampshire, con- 
fident of raising his old friends and companions in arms 
once more to the cause. His success was complete, and 
the delight of the patriot and the soldier may well be 
conceived. It was at this moment of triumph, when the 
veteran of so many battles placed himself in the midst of 
a willing soldiery, that Stark found himself superseded by 
his juniors in years and by tyros in the art of war. He 
repaired to the council, and protested against the insult 
and injustice. Finding remonstrance of no avail, he 
threw up his commission, and retired to his farm, where 
he armed every retainer of size and strength for battle, and 
sent them forth to the great work ; he girded his four sons, 
and then turned himself to his bereaved household, and 
resumed the spade and scythe in lieu of sword and can- 
non. It was in vain that the chivalrous Schuyler, who 



HIS REPLY TO SCHUYLER. '117 

subsequently suffered from a like injustice, urged hmi to 
remain in the service ; the reply of Stark is like " apples 
of gold in pictures of silver." 

<<^n officer who cannot maintain his own rank, and 
assert his own rights, cannot be trusted to vindicate those 
oj" his count ry.^^ 

He continued to watch the operations of the army, and 
point out what seemed, in his judgment, essential to its 
well-being; and always declared his readiness to take the 
field whenever the country should require his services. 

The summer of 1777 opened with its full share of dis- 
heartenment to our people. It seemed next to an impos- 
sibility to keep an army in the field under the pressure of 
poverty, and the scantiness of munitions of war. A 
triumphant and fully supplied enemy was penetrating the 
heart of the country by the way of Canada, and the de- 
monstrations of Lord Howe left no doubt of a design to 
conjoin the two forces by means of the Hudson, and thus 
totally divide the country into two sections. The want 
of military enterprise in Burgoyne, which led him to act in 
detachments, instead of precipitating himself en masse 
upon our territory, was undoubtedly the secret of our 
safety. The region of Lake Champlain, so often the field 
of battle, became once more the theatre of war. Ticon- 
deroga is again lost, and still the foe advances onward. 
Vermont is in imminent peril ; — they apply for protection, 
or declare they must abandon their homes, and seek refuge 
east of Connecticut river. All is dismay — the northern 
army is accused of pusilanimity — and a deputation is sent 
to Exeter, to demand succour from the Assembly. John 
Langdon is speaker of the house — a merchant of Ports- 
mouth, and full of devotion to the cause — he rises in his 
seat — hear him. 

"I have three thousand dollars in hard money; I will 
pledge my plate for three thousand more; I have seventy 
hogsheads of Tobago rum, which shall be sold for the 



88 JOHNSTARK. 

most it wlK brinp;. These are at the service of the state. 
If we succeed in deteiuling our liresidt-s ami homes, 1 
may be remunerated ; if we do not, the property will be 
of no value to me. Our oKl frieml Stark, who so nobly 
maintained the honour of our state at Bunker Hill, may 
safely be entrusted with the conduct of the enterprise, and 
we will cheek tiie progress of Burgoyne." 

The pride of Siark half revolteil at this partisan warfare, 
into wliich the raising of troops by the New Hampshire 
Assembly would thrust him ; but the urgencies of the 
country lefi small space lor punctilio, and he accepted the 
command of the forces thus raised, stipulating otdy that he 
shoulil act entirely umler the command of New Hampshire, 
should not be obliged to join the main arniy, but be al- 
lowed the defence of the New Hampshire Grants, as Ver- 
mont was then called. His stipulations were fully ac- 
ceiled to, and John Stark is once more in the field at the 
head of his enthusiastic followers. The militia flocked to 
his standard without ilelay, and he appears upon the grand 
scene so renowned in our history. 

Arrived at Bennington, he is met by General Lincoln, 
with orders from General Schuyler to conduct his militia 
to the west bank of the Hudson. Stark slated the orders 
under which he acted, and the perils to which the people 
of Vermont would be exposed in the presence of a 
triumphant soldiery, unless he remained lor their <lefence. 
He refused, under existing circumstances, to leive this por- 
tion of the country unprotected, anil declared his intention 
to resist the progress of Burgoyne here, before he should 
make farther way into the country. This, at the time, 
was regarded as an infringement of military subordination, 
and was strongly reprehended ; but subsequent events 
justified the decivsion of Stark, and Washington himself 
signified his approval. 

Burgoyne, flut^hed with success and confident in the aid 
of the tories, who everywhere welcomed his approacl^, 



BATTLE OF BENNINGTON. 29 

and contributed to the support of his army, detached a 
party of six hundred men, under the command of Colone? 
Baum, to obtain a supply of stores and provisions known 
to have been collected at Bennington. General Stark be- 
came apprized of this circumstance, and that a party of 
Indians, tories, and British were within twelve miles of 
Bennington, and a much larger force, with artillery, and all 
finely accoutred, were rapidly on their way to Bennington. 

On the 14th of August, Stark moved forward to the 
support of Colonel Gregg, who had been ordered to the 
defence of Bennington. He met the detachment in full 
retreat, and Stark instantly halted and prepared for action. 
A battle of little moment followed, making two u{)on the 
fourteenth. The next day was rainy, and each party was 
content to act mostly upon the defensive. Some skirmish- 
ing took place, and many of the Indian allies of the enemy 
began to desert. On the morning of the sixteenth, the 
crisis of the great battle of Bennington took place. It is 
not our design, in a limited sketch like this, to give the 
details of the engagement; suffice it to say, that the dispo- 
sition of his forces, the order and skill with which Stark 
moved on with his ill-appointed soldiery in the face of the 
lavishly-appointed foe, infusing into ihem, by his own hardy 
enthusiasm, the bearing and the courage of veterans of the 
field — they mounted breastworks, often with neither sword 
nor bayonet — without artillery confronted the cannon's 
mouth — and, impelled by the hope of freedom and by 
devotion to their commander, accomplished the labour of 
disciplined troops. 

Stark says — " The action lasted two hours, and was the 
hottest I ever knew. It was like one continued clap of 
thunder." It commenced at three o'clock — the day was 
excessively hot — and lasted, as we have seen, two hours, 
when a total rout of the enemy took place, and a hot pur- 
suit, which lasted till dark, when Stark drew oflT his men, 
lest they siiould fire upon each other. On this occasion. 



W JOHN STARK. 

our forces captured seven hundred prisoners, four pieces 
of brass cannon, many hundred stand of arms, broad- 
swords, drums, &c. 

By this brilliant achievement Stark at once placed him- 
self in the front rank of military leaders, and taught Con- 
gress to feel its obligations to the man they had injured. 
A vote of thanks immediately followed, although Stark 
did not condescend to report his victory ; and he was al 
once reinstated in the American army as brigadier-general. 
Too true in his patriotism to hazard collisions of any kind 
that might interfere with the great cause so dear to his 
heart, Stark, afier being farther reinforced — for such was 
his popularity the people thronged in crowds to put them- 
selves under such a leader — moved forward to the head- 
quarters of the army, at Behmus's Heights, under General 
Gates, 

Subsequently, we find him in active service, raising re- 
cruits, vigilant in all occasions, and, as ever, doing brave 
service for his country, with little thought for himself. 
Stationed at West Point, he became one of the court- 
martial appointed for the trial of Major Andre. Painful 
as must have been the conviction, he fully concurred in 
the decision of that body, by which this most accomplished 
youth was sacrificed to the usages of war. 

The final surrender of Cornwallis virtually closed the 
war, and Stark, impaired in health, and worn by a long 
life of hardship and warfare, returned once more to his 
farm. The veteran of two protracted wars, who had 
passed fifteen years in the field, lived to see that of 1812; 
making the three great eras in our national history. He 
was now ful' of years and honours. John Stark, the hero 
of Bennmgton, was sought and revered by the greatest in 
the nation, renowned as a patriot, idolized as a leader, 
and affectionately cherished by friends and neighbours ; 
yet the hero of so many wars, the man foremost in danger 
and stoutest in peril, could count no scars, for he had 



ADVANCED AGE AND DEATH. 31 

never been wounded. He had passed unscathed amid the 
" iron sleet," where he had been most prodigal of his pre 
sence, and not a weapon had taken effect upon this mo- 
dern Achilles, who never showed a heel. 

When the news reached him of the capitulation of Ge- 
neral Hull, and the loss of the cannon which he had won 
at Bennington, <' my guns," as he fondly called them, the 
old warrior, fired with indignation, started from his chair, 
eager for the rescue ; but he was no longer for the armed 
host — 

« Full seventy years he now had seen, 
And scarce seven years of rest." 

The battle rolled afar off, and he like the worn heroes 
of Ossian, could but lean upon his spear, and enjoy the 
repose of heroes. He lived to the age of ninety-four, the 
last but one survivor of the generals of the Revolution. 
His tomb is built upon the banks of the Merrimack, upon 
a rising ground commanding a view of a long reach of 
river and country. His monument is an obelisk of granite, 
(granite only should be the material to commemorate the 
great men of our Revolution:) the inscription simply — 

MAJOR-GENERAL STARK. 

We could wish it were less, and yet more than this, 

JOHN STARK. 



MAJOll-GEXEKAL WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

Thk name of Moultrie is honourably associated with 
one of the earliest and best f"ou<;ht battles of the Revolu- 
tion. It was under his e>t? and direction — the rcsvdt of 
his skill and spirit — that a Hriiish lleet, hitherto deemed 
invincible, was <lispersed, in shaine and confusion, belore 
one of the feeblest fortresses that was ever thrown up on 
the shores of America. A great victory in the south, fol- 
lowing^ close upon that in the north, at the heights near 
Boston, fitly preluded that grand declaration of a nation's 
rights, which must always make 1776 famous in the annals 
of liberty. Were there nothing else in the life antl career 
of William Moultrie, his gallant deteiice of the Palmetto 
fortress of Carolina, in the opening of the Revolution, 
against the combincil land and sea forces of Great Britain, 
led by Sir Peter Parker, would render him honourably 
dear to all succeetling lime. But he had other claims to 
the gratitude of his country, which we shall endeavoui 
briefly to unfold. 

William Moultrie came of a good Scotch ancestry. He 
was born in 1731. Of his early life we have few oi 
no memorials. His education was respectable, and quite 
as good as it was in the power of the colony of South 
Carolina in that early day to afford. He soon won the 
esteem and confidence of his fellow-citizens; and we 
fii.d him seeking a military reputation as a captain of 
volunteers against the Cherokee Indians, in 1761. He 
was now thirty years old, of hardy, vigorous frame, and a 
cool, determineil, deliberate courage. His first campaign 
increased his military ardour, and taught him some of the 
best lessons of his art. It was a service at once arduous 
82 



—-—<#* 




m^^.^'aiz^t 'yy*? iyj©Qj[LT^p- 




BATTLE OF ETC II OE. 33 

aii(] perilous. The Cherokees inhabited the mountain 
regions of South and North Carolina. The settled abodes 
of the Europeans were chiefly along the sea. But few 
settlements had been made in the vast forest region which 
lay between the mountains and the seaboard. The troops 
of the colony, seeking their wild adversaries in their 
native fastnesses, were compelled to traverse a dreary in- 
terval of waste, and to encounter a thousand privations. 
But the training was of vast benefit to the Carolinians in 
preparing them for the encounter with a more powerful 
foe. It was in this school that Moultrie was prepared for 
good service during the Revolution. Here, also, Marion, 
Pickens, and Huger, who afterwards distinguished them- 
selves in defence of the national independence, were 
initiated into the first duties of the soldier. Marion was 
the lieutenant of Moultrie, on this expedition, which was 
conducted by Colonel Grant, of the British army, and 
Colonel Middleton, of the provincials. It was Marion 
who led the forlorn hope at the battle of E:choe. Here, 
in one of their most difficult passes, the key to several of 
their towns, the Cherokees made their most formidable 
stand. They held the heights, and were ambushed in 
forests that seemed almost inaccessible. The forlorn hope 
suffered terribly at the first fire ; but the Indians were 
beaten with considerable slaughter. Severe, indeed, was 
the punishment that followed. Their towns were burnt, 
their cornfields and granaries destroyed, and, in the desti- 
tution of their wretched women and children, they were 
compelled to sue for peace. In thus teaching the provin- 
cials to fight their own battles, the British were paving the 
way, unconsciously, to the independence of their colo- 
nies. Moultrie was one of those who profited by their 
Jessons to their own cost. This first taste of war was 
grateful to his temper; and his conduct, in this campaigo, 
nattirally taught his countrymen where to look for valianl 

C 



34 W I L I I A M M J U L T R I E. 

service dnd good conduct whenever the exigencies of the 
state rendered military talent desirable. 

It was not long before the popular presentiment coun- 
selled timely preparation for the necessity. The mother 
country was gradually drawing her vast and powerful 
folds around the infant liberties of the colonies. But they 
were not wanting to their inheritance of mind and free- 
dom ; nor so wholly feeble and deficient of resources, as 
the foreign ruler fancied them to be. They began to dis- 
cover that, only officered by the British, they had, for some 
time past, been fighting their own battles, with their own 
men and money, against the French and Indians. This 
discovered, and it was easy to understand how they should 
use the sinews of their strength against any enemy. Be- 
sides, the burden of their struggles, thrown wholly upon 
themselves, it was quite as natural that a shrewd people 
should ask in what lay the advantage of their connection 
with a power which they knew only by exaction and mo- 
nopoly. It needed but a conviction of their own strength, 
to see it fully exercised for their emancipation, as soon as 
it was fairly understood that the tie which bound the 
parties together was no longer equally profitable to both. 
This conviction was not yet reached by the provincials ; 
but the unwise tyrannies of Britain were fast forcing it 
upon them. Inevitable in the end, in the progress of a 
few years, it was yet in the power of a prudent administra- 
tion to have retarded the event which their cupidity con- 
trived to hasten. 

Suffering less than her sister colonies — something of a 
favourite, indeed, with the mother country — South Caro- 
lina was yet among the first to declare her independence. 
Her proceedings in this great national cause are to be read 
m her histories. It suffices here to say, that William 
Moultrie was one of those whom she called to her earliest 
councils in the day of her trouble. He was returned to 



SEIZURE OF AMMUNITION. 36 

the provincial Congress, in 1775, from the parish of St. 
He.ena. The acts of this Congress furnish an honourable 
record of the spirit and the wisdom of the time and people. 
The progress of events kept him active. Britain, rashly 
resolving to coerce rather than conciliate, the colonists 
began to look around them for weapons of defence. The 
South Carolinians were greatly deficient in supplies of this 
nature. But the king's stores were tolerably well provided, 
and Moultrie was one of a party of patriotic citizens to 
apply the wrench to bolt and bar, at midnight, when it 
became necessary to relieve the public arsenals of their 
hoarded arms and ammunition. The king's stores were 
disburdened, by this bold proceeding, of twelve hundred 
stand of arms, and some three thousand pounds of powder. 
" Fairly entered upon the business," says Moultrie him- 
self, in his Memoirs, " we could not step back, and not 
brake open the magazines." The news of the battle of 
Lexington led to the organization of the militia as regular 
troops, and Moultrie was elected to the colonelcy of the 
second regiment of South Carolina. He designed the 
temporary flag of the colony, under whose folds its first 
victory was gained. This was a single field of blue, with 
a silver crescent in the dexter corner, the design suggested 
by the uniform of the state troops, which was blue, and by 
the silver ornament upon their caps. Two British sloops- 
of-war occupied the harbour of Charleston, and, daily, by 
their threats, kept the citizens in alarm, lest the town 
should be bombarded. It was necessary to curb this in- 
solence ; and Moultrie was despatched, under cover of a 
stormy night, with a select body of troops, and a few 
pieces of artillery, to Haddrill's Point, from which these 
vessels might be commanded. A rude breastwork was 
rapidly thrown up, the guns mounted, and, at daylight 
opening with long shot upon the enemy, they were com- 
pelled to haul off to a more respectful distance. 

ThcEe were acts quite too decisive to suffer the colooy 



36 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

long 1o escape the vengeance of the mother country. Jt 
was soon understood that an expedition was preparing 
against the south. The wealth and supposed weakness of 
Charleston, seemed to invite assault ; and the Carolinians 
began to provide against it. Moultrie, who had driven 
the sloops down the bay, by his fort on lladdrill's Point — 
who had taken possession of Fort Johnson, which the British 
had been compelled to abandon, in anticipation of his 
attack — upon whom, during the absence of Colonel Gads- 
den at Philadelphia, had devolved the charge of both the 
local regiments — and who was, even at this time, a mem- 
ber of the legislative council — in other words, a '< council 
of safety," to which all provincial measures, in the ex- 
tremity of ad'airs, had been confided by the poj)ular govern- 
ment — Moulirie was despatched to Sullivan's Island, to 
superintend the erection of temporary defences in that 
quarter. Sullivan's Island was regarded as the key to the 
harbour. Lying within point-blank shot of the channel, it 
was particularly susceptible of employment in retarding or 
harassing an enemy's fleet; and the difficulties of the bar, 
which was unf^wourable to the passage of very large ves- 
sels of war, increased the value of the position, as a key 
to the entrance. Hither, accordingly, he proceeded early 
in March, 1776, The island, which is now occupied 
by a pleasing summer village, was then a wilderness, 
having in its bosom, upon the spot subsequently covered 
in great part by the fortress, a deep morass, wliich was 
sheltered by massive live-oaks, and by a dense covert of 
myrtle, sprinkled with palmetto trees. The palmettos 
were soon hewn down, and made to serve as the outer 
wall of the fortress, which was rendered dense and mas* 
sive by sand and earth thrown into the spaces between 
the loijs. These were fastened towethor, in alternate 
layers, rudely notched at the extremities, and secured by 
pegs of wood. Upon its density, and the soft porous 
character of the palmetto timber, which did not frac'ure 



HIS PHLEGMATIC DISPOSITION. 37 

when wounded by shot, rather than the strength of the 
works, did the garrison rely for safety. It was at best a 
cover, rather than a shelter. The common opinion was» 
that a British frigate wouhl knock it about the ears of the 
defenders in half an hour. To one who uttered this opinion 
in the ears of Moultrie, he answered, that he "could still 
fight the enemy, and prevent their landing, from behind 
the ruins." His coolness during all this time, and when 
all other persons were excited, led to suspicions of his 
energy. He was somewhat phlegmatic in his moods, 
and was thought to take things quite too easily. Indeed, 
it must be admitted that his good temper was sometimes 
too indulgent. He was not sufficiently the disciplinarian, 
and did not succeed in extorting and extracting from those 
about him, what they might have done, and what the 
emergency seems to have required. But his coolness and 
fortitude amply compensated for this deficiency, and had 
the happiest effect in inspiring his men with confidence 
"General Lee thinks me quite too easy," says Moultrie 
himself, good-naturedly enough; — "for my part, I never 
was uneasy." In this respect he certainly was a philoso- 
pher. Charles Lee would have had the post abandoned 
without an effort. He had a profound faith in British 
frigates, to do any thing; and pronounced the fort on Sul- 
livan's Island to be a mere slaughter-pen. To his ex- 
hortations that the place should be abandoned. Governor 
Rutledge opposed a steady refusal. He had asked Moul- 
trie if he could defend it. The reply was affirmative. 
" General Lee wishes you to evacuate the fort. You will 
not do so without an order from me ; I will sooner cut 
oflf my hand than write one." He knew Moultrie. Lee 
was particularly anxious, finding that he could not efTect 
this object, that the means of retreat should be furnished 
for <he garrison. Moultrie never gave himself any concern 
on this account; and this led to Lee's impatience with 
nim. " I never was uneasy," says he, " at having no re- 
VoL. II. 4 



38 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

treat, as I never i nagined that the enemy could force me 
to this necessity. 1 always considered myself able to de- 
fend the post." Lee thought otherwise; and, even had 
the post been defensible, did not conceive Moultrie to be 
the man for such a trust. His phlegm and coolness an- 
noyed the impetuous and restless spirit of this mercurial 
soldier. Moultrie says — " General Lee does not like my 
having command of this important post. He does not 
doubt my courage, but says I am < too easy in com* 
mand.' " A little of that calm of temper, which was so 
conspicuous in Moultrie, might have saved Lee himself 
from all his mortifications. 

Moultrie's confidence in himself and companions was 
soon put to the heaviest test. The British fleet, more than 
fifty sail, vessels of war and transports, appeared before the 
bar. Some days were employed in effeciing their entrance. 
At length, on the 28th day of June, 1776, the grim array, 
consisting of two fifty-gun ships, four frigates, and a num- 
ber of smaller vessels, including a bomb ketch, called the 
Thunder, advanced to the assault. Their thunders soon 
opened upon the little fortress, to which they pressed for- 
ward, with flying vans, and all the pomp of streamers, as 
if rushing on to certain victory. The phlegm of Moultrie 
did not desert him in the slightest degree, at this fearful 
moment. That he was actually suflering from the gout, 
durii>g the battle, did not lessen his enjoyment of it. 
With pipe in mouth, he coolly superintended the mixing 
of certain buckets of "grog," — a mixture of Jamaica rum 
and water, with possibly a moderate infusion of molasses, 
by way of reconciling the beverage to every taste. He 
knew the necessity lor some such cheering beverage for 
his men, at such a season, exposed as they were to ♦he 
burning sun of a Carolina June, usually the hottest period 
of the year. The approach of the enemy occasioned no 
precipitation in his movements. Not a shot was prema- 
turely discharged from the fort. Not a fuse ligh'ed, -until 



DEFENCE OF SCJLLIVAN's ISLAND. 39 

it was very sure that every shot would teil. The moment 
was one of intense anxiety to all, seemingly, but himself. 
The wharves of the city, us steeples and housetops, were 
thronged with the inhabitants, doubtful of the conflict, and 
looking momently to the necessity of meeting the success- 
ful invader at the water's edge, in a last struggle for their 
homes. Moultrie was not without his emotions. He could 
see these anxious multitudes. It was the city of his love 
that he was commanded to defend, and his heart was full 
of the twofold convictions of duty and affection. But his 
was the courage which declares itself in a perfect self-pos- 
session. As soon as his cannon could be trained to bear, 
he gave the word for action, and thirty pieces, eighteens 
and twenty-fours, sent out their destructive missiles 
upon the advancing frigates of the enemy These still 
continued on their way, until abreast of the fort, when, let- 
ting go their anchors, with springs on their cables, they 
poured forth their terrors in a broadside, which made the 
lowly fortress tremble to its foundations. Then it was 
discovered, for the first time, that riflemen could make the 
very best artillerists. Very brief had been the training of 
the troops of Carolina at the cannon ; but every man was 
a marksman. Accustomed to the deadly aim of the rifle, 
they applied their skill to the larger implements of death. 
Dearly did the Briiish frigates suffer from this peculiar 
training. Hot and heavy was the fire from the fort, and 
terrible the havoc that followed. There was no random 
firing that day. The officers themselves sighted the 
pieces ere the match was apj)lied ; and now might the 
slight form of Marion be seen, and now the more massive 
figure of Moultrie, as removing the pipes from their mouths, 
they ranged the grim outline of the twenty-fours, and de- 
spatched its winged missiles to the work of destruction. 
The Thunder bomb was soon in a condition to spout no 
more thunder. Her sides shattered, her beds disabled — 
♦he drifted out of the field of conflict, no longer an oniecf 



40 W I L L I A M M O U L T R J E. 

cf fear or attention. Her shells had done but little injury. 
The morass wliich occupied a portion of the interior of 
the fortress, had received the greater number of them, and 
Its moist ooze had kindly extinguished their burning 
matches. Few of them had burst within the enclosure, 
and these, fortunately, without effect. The attention of 
the garrison was given to more imposing game. The fifiy- 
gun ships demanded their greatest consideration. << Mind 
the commodore!" was the cry that ran along the walls, 
and declared a proper sense of what was due to superior 
dignity. "Mind both the fifty-gun ships!',' was the echo, 
which betrayed a desire for impartiality in the treatment 
of the strangers, for which, it is very sure, that neither of 
them was properly grateful. Never was such havoc 
wrought in British ships before. At one moment, the 
commodore swung round with her stern to the fort, draw- 
ing upon her the iron hail from every cannon which could 
be trained to bear. She paid dearly for the distinguished 
attention she received, and would have been destroyed, 
but for the scarcity of powder in the fortress. Despatches 
were sent to the city for a new sup})Iy, and in the midst of 
the action, Marion volunteered to obtain some from a 
small sloop which lay between Haddrill's and the fort. 
He succeetled in his quest ; and five hundred pounds were 
sent from Charleston. But all this was inadequate to the 
work in hand. It was necessary to economize it well, to 
time every discharge, and to see that none was idly ex- 
pended in the air. " Be cool, and do mischief," was the 
advice of Rutledge to Moultrie, accompanying the gun- 
powder. It was just the policy of our commander. His 
coolness, though quite annoying to the impetuous Lee, 
was quite as much so to the British commodore. Yet so 
deliberately was it necessary that they should use their 
cannon, that, at one moment, it was thought that the fori 
was silenced ; but the shouts of the British crews, at this 
fond but delusive suggestion, were soon sdenced in the 



SERJEANTS JASPER AND MACDANIEL. 41 

terrible answer, written in flame and iron, that came rush- 
ing and rending through the shattered sides of their ves 
sels. At another moment, their uniteii broadsides, striking 
the fort at the same instant, gave it such a tremor, that 
Moultrie himself was impressed with the fear that a few 
more such would bring it down about his ears. But his 
men were not troubled with this apprehension. They 
caught his infectious coolness, and, when a random shot, 
faking in its ilight a coat which one of the soldiers had 
thrown aside, the more coolly to perform his task — they 
could turn from the foe in front, with a merry laughter, 
crying to one another to watch the progress of the coat, as 
it sped into a neighbouring tree. Their sang froid was 
by no means shared by their anxious brethren who beheld 
the progress of the battle from the distant cily. These, as 
the guns of the fortress ceased to respond, except at long 
intervals, to the unceasing cannonade of the British, sunk 
into despondency; and their hearts utterly fell, when, 
smitten by a cannon ball, the crescent flag of Mo-ultrie 
disappeared before their eyes. It fell without the fortress 
and upon the beach. It was not sulFered to lie there; but, 
while the British shouted with new hopes of victory, and 
while their volleys still filled the air with missiles, Ser- 
jeant Jasper leaped over the battlements, and, in spite of 
their fire, proudly rej)lanted the banner once more upon 
the ramparts. This was an incident — an achievement — 
to inspire confidence, and to warm every heart with ex- 
ulting courage. And other examples, akin to this, were 
not wanting to this famous occasion. A brave fellow, 
named McDaniel, a serjeant also, was shattered by a shot 
that raked the embrasure at which he stood. He cried to 
his comrades as he was borne away from the platform — 
"I die, comrades, but you will fight on for liberty and our 
country." And they did fight on. For nearly twelve 
iours did the strife continue — three hundred against thirty 
cannon — three thousand men against four hundred. Thp 

4* 



42 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

balt.e began at ten o'clock in the day, and continued moie 
or less violently while the day lasted. It did not close 
with the approach of darkness. It was then that the Bri- 
tish commodore concentrated all his resources for a final 
efiTort. The cannonade, incessant as it had been, was now 
a continued volley of flame and thunder. Broadside afier 
broadside tried the nerves of the little garrison ; but, while 
they shook their slight bulwarks to the centre, failed to 
affect the brave defenders. Night came on, and still the 
battle lighted up the gloom. The British, loth to quit, 
still clung, like their own bulldog, to the enemy whom 
they could no longer hope to subdue. Their plans and 
hopes had equally failed them. They had made no im- 
pression on the fortress — they had slain but few of the gar- 
rison — their land forces had not succeeded in a design to 
cross a frith or arm of the sea, in order to take the fortress 
in the rear. Their failure in these object? implied, not 
only the utter defeat of their plans, but a terrible loss to 
them in mnteriel and personnel. Three vessels, the Ac- 
teon, the Sphynx, and Syren, that had been sent round 
to attack the western extremity of the fort — which was un- 
finished — had become entangled with a shoal, and ran foul 
of each other. The Syren and Sphynx succeeded in ex- 
tricating themselves, but not till they had so severely suf- 
fered as to be put hors de combat ; while the Acleon stuck 
fast, and was abandoned by her crew, and destroyed ; but 
not before a detachment of the Carolinians had boarded 
her, and discharged her loaded cannon at her retreating 
consorts. It was half past nine o'clock, before the shouts 
of the garrison announced the withdrawal of (he enemy's 
shipping from before the fortress, by which they had been 
so roughly handled. The fifty-gutT ships had been the 
slaughter-pens. Never had been such a carnage in pro- 
portion to the number of persons engaged in ships of war 
before. The Bristol alone had forty men killed, and se- 
venty-one wounded. The Experiment suiTered m Iik« 



HONOURS TO Til K V I CI O 11 S. 43 

mnnn<>r. Tlw couuuodorc liiiust'll lost an ann ; and liorct 
Willintn C;\inpl)(>ll, lale {jfovcrnor o\' Ihc piovinrc, whs 
mortally wounded. Never was so <;n'a( a viclory olilaiiicd 
at so small a cost. 'I'lic t^iiriisoti lost hut t(Mi iix'ii slain, 
and twice tlint nuinUer wounded. Tlu' sol\ spongy wood 
which forinefi their walls, and whi(*h closed over the one* 
my\s shot without splinlerinj*-, and the moras.s in the inte- 
rior of the fort, ill which the shells huried themselves with- 
out explodini^, were amonj^ the causes which conlrihvited 
to their forlunnle escape Croni hiuin. A few hours lell 
only the dchris of the British tleet in the harhour ot 
Charleston. The assailants withdrew as soon ns possihie, 
without rcnewinp; ihe attaclc ; Icavinp; the ('arolinians to a 
lonj^ period of repose, which was due entirely to this <;;al- 
Innt nclion. F^c**, who woidd liave forejijone Ihe op|)ortu- 
nity entirely, received, ns |renernl of the army ol iIh- south, 
the thanks of (;on<ness for an allidr, the honours of which 
were tiiielly due to Moultrie, liut llx* laller was nol left 
unhonoured. l''rom that momeiil, he .secured Ihc lasting 
gratitude and allcclion of his countrymen, it will not h«» 
out of place, »*ven iti a hiofijraphy so hricf as this, to advert 
to sonie of the scenes, more mild and grateful in «-harnc« 
ter, that followed this fearful cotilliel, ami displaye(| to 
Moultrie, and his garrison, tin- fcelinj^s of those in whoso 
behalf they had don« Huch gallant service. Thu oitizenil 
crowded (hiwn to the island, the day after Ihe hallle. 
They had Ix-held ils closinf'; event, in the explosion of tho 
Aoteon,* and their inipaiieni'e was no lon-fer to he re 
Ntrained. lOach day hroiiidit new ])roofs to llu" hrav** gar- 
rison of the esteem in vvhich they were held. The thanks 
of th(; goviMiior ; the compliments of (Icneral Lee, who 
liirirmed thai " no n\en ever did, and it was imposwddi) 



• Monllri« Umi« drurril^oK tlio rvcriJ iti IiIn Mrmolrn. — " S|jc Itlcw Hji, 
and fViiin tlin <<x|>loNiiiii triMui'il ii kiiiiu! ]iilliir oC Nitioko, wliirh itooii ok- 
piuidoil ilHoir III. tho |ii|>, mill. In ii|i|ii'!iriuii'i', I'litiiiiil llic I'lfriiro of u |>(lj- 
DMtto trnu. Tiir slii|) iiuiitodiiUciy Itunil iiilo h ^rcul blu/.o." iVc. 



4<^ W I L L I A M M O U L T R I E. 

that any men ever coultl, behave better," were but natural 
ebullitions ot" justice, heightened in their value by the 
■warm sympathies, and the tearful eyes of admiring beauty. 
One of the ladies of Charleston — Mrs. Barnard Elliott — a 
lajdy held in immemorial esteem, presented a pair of co- 
lours to the regiment, with a speech, in which she confi- 
dently invoked its courage to defend them, *' as long as 
they can wave in the air of liberty." The promise was 
frankly made, and never were colours more honourably 
supported. Subsequently, planted by a storming party 
upon the J3ritish lines at Savannah, the ensign . bearers, 
Lieutenants Bush and Hume, were both shot down ; Lieu- 
tenant Gray, making an elFort to carry them forward, 
shared the same fate. Serjeant Jasper, to whom Governor 
Rutledge gave a sword after the battle of Fort Moulirie, 
seizing one of the flags from the falling Hume, received 
his death wound also ; but he bore away the precious en- 
sign in safety. They were boih subsequently lost at the 
surrender of Charleston, and are now among the innume- 
rable trophies of British triumph in the Tower of London. 
Moultrie received the thanks of Congress after Lee. 
The fort which he had so well defended, was called by 
his name, under legislative enactment. He rose, in spite 
of his easy disposition, in the estimation of General Lee, 
who proposed to him to lead an expedition against St. 
Augustine. Moullrie's brother heitl the place as a British 
loyalist. Lee apprehended that this might be a difficulty, 
and approached the subject with much hesitation and de- 
licacy. Moultrie soon reassured him in this respect. '<I 
told him that my brother being there, would be no objec- 
tion with me." A severe sense of moral duty was, with 
him. by no means mconsistent with a good-natured and 
easy disposition. But there were other and more serious 
objections to the enterprise. There was no materiel for 
the service. Eight hundred men were necessary, and so 
n-any articles to be procured, which the poverty of the 



MAJOR GARDNER DEFEATED. 45 

colony could not furnish, that, without declining the duty, 
Moultrie showed himself disposed to waive it. *'Itold 
him I knew what it was to march an army through the 
wilderness. I had been warring against Indians. I had 
seen an army of three thousand men, in an enemy's country, 
reduced to a single day's provisions." These and other 
arguments arrested the expedition. 

Moultrie, with his regiment, was now put on the conti- 
nental establishment. He was transferred to the command 
of a body of North Carolinians, at Haddrill's Point. He 
was made a brigadier, and from this moment, is to be 
found contributing, by daily service, to the military inte- 
rests of Carolina and Georgia. His duties were tedious 
and troublesome, rather than perilous or exhausting. The 
battle of Fort Moultrie afforded a three years respite to the 
state, from the trials and terrors of warfare. Occasional 
difficulties with the Indians and the loyalists, while they 
required vigilance, readiness, and a continual watch, did 
not frequently compel the Carolinians to buckle on their 
armour. The Cherokees were severely scourged by Ge- 
neral Williamson, and a second invasion of the loyal terri- 
tory of Florida was projected, but, owing to deficiency of 
resources, such as Moultrie had pointed out, resulted only 
in failure. The campaign of 1779 opened with a renewal 
of British hostilities against South Carolina. The fruit 
was now nearly ripe for the spoiler. General Lincoln, a 
brave and worthy gentleman, was sent to take charge of 
the army in Carolina. Moultrie, to whom it might have 
been quite as well to have confided this trust, wiih the 
commission of a major-general, if necessary, was stationed 
at Port Royal Island. Here he encountered a British force 
superior to his own, led by Major Gardner, whom he de- 
feated in a sharp encounter, and drove from the island. 
The British suffered severely, and lost nearly all their offi- 
cers. The troops of Moultrie, all of whom were militia, 
sustained but little loss. This attempt of the British, pre- 



46 W I L I- 1 A M M O IM- T R I E 

tacdl a more vii;orous otVort. Savaiiiiali had falliMi mto 
their haiuls the yvAr before. From this point they pre- 
pared to penetrate Carolina in toree. Lincohi, at the 
same time, passed into (leorgia, with tlie view to liiverling 
the enemy iVom his objects; and, it' possible, ot' eonlininj; 
his operations to the sea-coast of Georgia only. One of 
his lietached bodies, however, nmler (leneral Ash, suf- 
fereil a surprise, which greatly enlcebled his strength, and 
encouraged his opponent. General Prevost, the active 
commander of the Hritish, aware of Lincoln's absence with 
the great boily of the American force, in the interior, sud- 
denly resolveil upon throwing himself between hiui and 
the seaboard, and pressing forwanl to Charleston. His 
object was a coup </<■ main. But iMonltrie lay in his path 
with a thousand militia, lie succeeded in retarding the 
advance which he could not resist, and thus gained time 
for the eiti/ens to put themselves in trim for the reception 
of the foe. His despatches apprized Lincoln of the British 
enterprise, and summoneil to his assistance Governor Rut- 
ledge, at the head of the country militia. Five large 
bodies of men were accordingly in motion at the same 
moment, all striving for the same point. The British, 
amounting to three thousand men, pressed rapidly upon the 
heels of AJoultrie. Oneor two skirmislies, which took place 
between small parties, soon satisfied the latter that it would 
not be prudent, with his inferior force, wholly of militia, 
to attempt a stand short o( Charleston. He had preparetl 
to try the strength of the enemy at Tulifinall, but was dis- 
couraged by the result of a skirmish between his own and 
the British light troops. He has been censured for not 
having done so, ainl it has been suggested, that, in the fre- 
quent swamps ami dense lorests through which his progress 
lay, there were adequate covers and fastnesses, in which to 
bailie and arrest an enemy But the routes were various. 
His opposition might have been turned, and tlie prize was 
quite too important — the safety of Charleston — to peril by 



EXPEDITION AGAINST C H A R L F: S T O N. 47 

nay rash confidence in the coolness and temper of an in* 
experienced militia. He reached Charleston hut a liflle 
v;hile before Prevost appeared in sight. He found the 
citizens in great consternation, and proceeded to reassure 
them, and put the town in a posture of defenc'\ On the 
11th of May, the advance of the liritish army crossed 
Ashley river. Their cavalry was encountered in a spirited 
skirmish by the legion of Count Pulaski. Unprepared for 
a siege, the hope of Prevost was in the vigour of a prompt 
assault. To meet this, the garrison stood to their arms all 
night. The next day the place was formally summoned. 
In the panic of the citizens, the proposition of surrender 
was really entertained. Fortunately, the negotiation was 
left to Moultrie. Prior to this, all things were in confu- 
sion. A question as to the proper authority arose in the 
minds of many. Orders were brought to the military, 
equally from the governor, the privy council, and the bri- 
gadier. Moultrie gave a proof of his decision at this mo- 
ment. "Obey no orders from the privy council," was 
his s'ern command, as he rode along the lines. "It will 
never do," were his words to the governor and council, 
« we shall be ruined and undone, if we have so many com- 
manders. It is absolutely necessary to choose one com- 
mander, and leave all military affiiirs to him." He was 
unanimously appointed to the station, and soon closed the 
negotiations with the enemy, by a stern and laconic an- 
swer, which silenced all the arguments of the timid. 
" We will fight it out!" The resolution was, in fact, vic- 
tory! Prevost had no time for fighting. Lincoln wasrapidly 
approaching with four thousand men ; and, fearful of a foe 
so powerful in his rear, and with no longer a hope of 
effecting any thing by coup de main, the liritish general 
suddenly recrossed the Ashley in the night. He retired 
to James's Island, where he was watched closely by the 
Americans under Lincoln. An attempt made upon his 
entrenchments at Storo Ferry, in which xMoultrie attempted 



48 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

to co-operate, but failed to reach the field in due season, 
was creditable to the spirit of the American troops, but 
did not realize the wished-for consequences. It sufficed, 
however, with the vigilant watch niaintained .ipon the 
British, to discourage their enterprise; and they gradually 
drew off, by way of the Sea Island, to [he'iv pomt tPappuiy 
in Georgia. And thus ended the second expedition 
against the metropolis of Carolina. 

In the whole anxious period in which the presence of 
the enemy was either felt or feared, Moultrie exhibited the 
cool, steadfast courage by which he was distinguished, 
with all the unremitted vigilance and activity which cha- 
racterized the zeal of one having deeply at heart the great 
interests which are confided to his hands. Hitherto, he 
had successfully opposed himself to the progress of the 
enemy ; — but the fortune of war was about to change. 
Baflled twice in their attempts upon Charleston, the British 
prepared themselves, with all their energies, for a third 
effort. The absolute possession of Georgia, and the me- 
lancholy failure of the united forces of France and America 
against the British garrison at Savannah, greatly encou- 
raged the undertaking. The southern army was seriously 
diminished in consequence of this latter misfortune ; and 
neither in the munitions of war, nor in the number of 
troops, was Carolina prepared to resist the powerful arma- 
ment which Sir Henry Cliiitofi brought against her metro- 
polis. On the 11th of February, 1780, the British force, 
amounting to more than ten thousand men, were within 
thirty miles of Charleston. Their fleet, availing them- 
selves of favourable winds and tides, hurried past Fort 
Moultrie without repeating the error of Sir Peter Parker, 
in stopping to engage if. Their ships suffered consider- 
ably from its fire, and one was destroyed, but the mischief 
done was not such as to embarrass or retard their progress. 
The British army, occupying a neck of land, lying above 
the city, and between the rivers Ashley and Cooper, opened 



SUHRENDER OF CHARLESTON. 4^ 

ibeir batteries on the 1 2th of April, To oppose their for- 
midable annainen:, the Charlestonians could bring into the 
field but live thousand men. The approach of summer, 
with the appearance of small-pox in the capital, elFectually 
discouraged the militia of the interior from haslening to 
the defence. The garrison was accordingly composed 
wholly of citizen militia, including a force of less than a 
thousand men from Virginia and Norlh Carolina. Lincoln 
•vas still first in command ; Moultrie second, but enjoying, 
perhaps, something more than a secondary influence. Sir 
Henry Clin'.on was a slow and cautious commander. The 
fortifications of Charleston were field-works only. A force 
so powerful as that of the British should have overrun 
them in a single night. Yet the siege continued for six 
weeks. The city was finally reduced by famine ; but not 
until the works were completely overawed by the be- 
siegers, and their artillery rendered almost useless. Gene- 
ral Moultrie was conspicuously active during the siege. 
Philip Neyle, one of his aids, was slain ; and he lost a 
brother, Thomas Moultrie, the only victim in one of the 
most successful sorties which were made by the garrison. 
He himself had a narrow escape on one occasion, having 
just h^ft his bed, when it was traversed and torn asunder 
by a ca.i.ioii shot. This was not his only escape. His 
coolness and phlegm did not desert him, as he walked the 
ramparts, or passed from them to the ciiy, not heeding the 
covered way, though the route which he took was one 
which was completely commanded by the bullets of the 
Hessian yag(M-s. It was thought miraculous that he should 
have escaped their aim. 

After the city had been surrendered, the prisoners of 
war were commanded to deliver their arms at a certain 
depot, where a considerable quantity of gunpowder had 
also been accumulated. They were received by a British 
guard of fifty men, stationed in the building. This hu- 
miliating necessity, always calculated to mortify a brave 

Vr>r TT «; ~^ 



50 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

people, produced in the Charlestonlans a certain degree 
of recklessness. Their muslcets were frequently charged 
to the muzzle with their remaining cartridges, and Hung 
hidilferently into a promiscuous heap. The consequence 
was an explosion. The powder was fired, and the buihl- 
ing thrown into the air, destroying the entire guard of 
lifty men, at a single blow. Their dismembered fragments 
were found far from the scene of explosion. One poor 
wretch was flung with such violence against the steeple 
of a neighbouring church as to impress it distinctly with 
the bloody outlines of his mangled carcass. The neigh- 
bouring houses were thrown down in the earthquake that 
followed, or set on fire by the rising flames. As the fire 
spread on every side, another of the magazines became 
endangered, and produced general consternation. The 
British troops regarding these events as the result of de- 
sign on the part of the citizens, turned out tumultuously ; 
and Moultrie himself was arrested by a Hessian officer, 
who charged the treachery upon him. Seized and put in 
close confinement, he might have incurred the worst peril 
from the suspicions of the ignorant Hessians, but that he 
contrived to convey to the British general (Leslie) an ac- 
count of his predicament, and he immediately ordered his 
release. Of Moultrie's coolness at this juncture, an anec- 
dote remains which is worth telling. While the alarm 
was wildest, he met a British olficer, who asked him what 
quantity of powder was in the magazine supposed to be 
endangered. When answered that there were ten thou- 
sand pounds, he exclaimed — " Sir, if it takes fire, it will 
blow your ^own to hell !" " It will certainly make a hell 
of a blast,' was the reply of Moultrie, in a similar spirit, 
and continuing his walk. The blow and blast were equally 
spared to the terrified city. The flames were extinguished, 
the magazine saved, and the powder preserved for mis- 
chief of another sort. 

Moultrie remained a captive for two years in the hands 



Balfour's letter to his son 51 

of the British. They were prepared to take him more 
nearly to their afTeclions. They knew his value, and were 
disposed to secure his support for the crown ; but they 
made one mistake, in not having duly known his worth 
Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour's written proposals to his son 
are still on record. He writes thus — " Mr. Moultrie, your 
father's character and your own have been represented to 
me in such a light that I wish to serve you both. What 
I have to say, I will sura up in few words. I wish you 
to propose to your father to relinquish the cause he is now 
engaged in, which he may do without the least dishonour 
to himself He has only to enclose his commission to the 
first general (General Greene, for instance) — the command 
will devolve on the next officer. This is of en done in 
our service. Any officer may resign his commission in 
the field, if he chooses. If your father will do this, he 
may rely on me. He shall have his estate restored, and 
all damages paid. I believe you are the only heir of 
your father. For you, sir, if he continues firm, I shall 
never ask you to bear arms against him. These favours, 
you may depend, I shall be able to obtain from my Lord 
Cornwallis. You may rely upon my honour — this matter 
shall never be divulged by me." 

Young Moultrie was fashioned in the same mould with 
his sire. The process described as so innocent by Bal- 
four — " as easy as lying," in the words of Hamlet — was 
but little to his taste. He at once declined the dishonour- 
able service, saying, that he should convey no such pro- 
posal to his father, whom, he was very sure, would never 
listen to it. But the arch-enemy was not to be so easily 
baffled. The attempt was renewed through another me- 
dium. Lord Charles Montague — formerly a governor of 
the province-^was the personal friend of Moultrie They 
had served together on the provincial establishment ; and 
frequent intercourse, and a real esteem, had cemented 
their intimacy into friendship. The British authoritie* 



bit WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

detei mined to avail themselves of this medium to dia> 
honour both the parties. Monlague, afier requesting an 
'nterview with Moultrie, wiiich seems to nave been de- 
clined, writes him thus. We make extracts from his 
letter only. 

"You have now fought bravely in the cause of your 
country for many years, and, in my opinion, have fulfilled 
the duty which every individual owes to it. You have 
had your share of hardship and dilliculties ; and if the 
contest is still to be continued, younger hands should now 
take the toil from yours. You have now a fair opening 
for quitting that service with honour and reputation to 
yourself, by going to Jamaica with me. The world will 
readily attribute it to the known friendship that has sub- 
sisted between us; and by quitting this country for a short 
time, you would avoid any disagreeable conversations, 
and might return at leisure, to take possession of your 
estates and family." 

In proof of his sincerity, Montague offers to yield to 
Moultrie the command of his regiment, and serve under 
him. He appeals to him by his old friendship — by their 
long and pleasant intimacy — and by the great importance, 
to both nations, of conciliation and peace. But the very 
earnestness of his appeal, betrays his own doubts of his 
success. Moultrie acquits him of having voluntarily con- 
ceived the application. His answer, from which we ex- 
tract passages only, is full of the mild majesty of an 
indignation sobered by a contempt of the occasion which 
provokes it. 

"I tlatiered myself that I stood in a more favouiable 
light with you You are pleased to compli- 
ment me with having fought bravely in my country's 

cause In your opinion, I hav€ fulfdled the 

duty that every individual owes it I differ 

very widely from you in thinking that I have discharged 
mjP duty to my country, while it is still deluged with 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTER. 53 

blood, and overrun by British troops, who exercise the 

most savage cruelties When I entered irtto 

this contest I did it after the most mature deliberation, and 
with a dftermined resohiiion to risk life and fortune in the 
cause. The hardships I have gone through, I look back 
upon with the greatest pleasure and honour to myself. I 
shall continue as I have begun ; that my example may 
encourage the youth of America to stand forth in defence 
of their rights and liberties. You tell me I have a fair 
opening for quitting that service with honour and reputa- 
tion, by going with you to Jamaica. Good God ! is it 
possible that such an idea can arise in the breast of a man 
of honour! I am sorry you should imagine I have so 
little regard for reputation as to listen to such dishonour- 
able proposals. Would you wish to have the man whom 
you have honoured with your friendship play the traitor.'' 
Surely not I You say that, by quitting this country for a 
short time, I might avoiil disagreeable conversations; and 
that I might return at my leisure, and take possession of 
my estates, for myself and family' But ynu have forgot 
to tell me how I am to get rid of the feelings of an injured 
and honest heart — and where lam to hide myself from my- 
self! Could I be guilty of so much baseness, I should 
hate myself, and shun mankind. This would be a fatal 
exchange for my present situation — with an easy and ap- 
proving conscience — having done my duty^ and conducted 
myself us a man of honour I wish for a re- 
conciliation as much as any man, but only upon honour- 
able terms. The repossessing my estates — the ofTer of your 
regiment — the honour you propose of serving under me — 
are paltry considerations, to the loss of my reputation. 
No! not the fee-simple of all Jamaica should induce me 

to part with my integrity My Lord, as you 

have made one proposal, give me leave to make another, 

which will be more honourable to us both 

I would have you propose the withdrawing of the British 

5* 



54 W I L L I A »t M U L T R I C. 

troops from the continent of Aniericn, allow its Imlepend- 
encc, and propose a peace. This done, I will use all my 
interest to accept the terms, and allow Great Britain a free 
trade with America." 

This performance, equally unaflected, unstudied, and 
noble, deserves to be kept on record. It shows the most 
sterling stiilf for a national character. It is worthy of the 
best patriotism of our country. It silenced the tempter. 
It showed not only a virtue above temptation, but an in- 
telligence which no subtlety could deceive. Moultrie 
was not to be \\in\\ to Jamaica by the suggestion that he 
should not, in this way, be serving the British cause 
against his countrymen. For every tcndcrly-conscienced 
American whom this plausible suggestion seduced from 
his duty, an English soldier was relieved of service in the 
West Indies, to fight against America at her own firesides. 

The two years that Moultrie remained in captivity, 
were very far from being years of idleness and repose. 
He was busy in a constant warfare with the British authori- 
ties, in urging justice for the prisoners, ami tor the people 
of the country ; in vigilantly keeping the enemy to the 
terms of the capitulation, and in remonstrating against the 
repeatetl violation of the guiiranties. His correspondence, 
preserved in his "Memoirs," is singularly voluminous and 
valuable. These "Memoirs," in two octavos, form one 
of the most interesting and useful bodies of historical ma- 
terial. He preserved his papers with remarkable care, and 
notes events with singular circumspection and accuracy. 
He is not a practised writer ; but he is clear, frank, un- 
affected ; and his pages are interspersed with frequent in- 
stances of a quiet humour, which make his recitals cheer- 
ful and attractive. 

By the terms of a cartel made on the 3d May, 1781, 
Moultrie was sulfered to go to Philadelpliia. An ex- 
change of the prisoners taken with Burgoyne, occasioned 
Kis final release from captivity ; but this ev^nt did not lake 



K X T R A C T FROM HIS MEMOIRS. 55 

place, nor was his parole cancelled, until the ciose of Feb- 
ruary, 1782. He was promoted by Congress to the rank 
of major-general ; but the day of active service and farther 
distinction was gone by. While Moultrie remained a 
prisoner, the most exciting events in the war were in pro- 
gress. Gates had been defeated at Caiuden; Greene had 
succeeded to the command. The battles of Hobkirk, 
King's Mountain, Cowpens, Guilford, had taken place; 
and nothing remained of the conflict, but the closing 
scenes ; the two armies, exhausted combatants, sullenly 
gazing on each odier, with unsubdued ferocity, but with- 
out the vigour to renew the combat. A single extract 
from tlie "Memoirs" of our veteran will not only afford 
us a just picture of this condition of the two armies, and 
of the field of struggle, but will show Moultrie's manner 
as a writer. He prepares to visit the camps of Generals 
Greene and Marion, and leaves Winyah late in September. 
"It was the most dull, melancholy, and dreary ride that 
any one could possibly take, of about one hundred miles, 
through the woods of that country which I had been ac- 
customed to see abound with live-stock and wild fowl of 
every kind. It was now destilule of all. It had been so 
completely chequered by the different parties, that not 
one part of it had been left unexplored. Consequently, 
not a vestige of horses, cattle, hogs, or deer, was to be 
found. The squirrels, and birds of every kind, were 
totally destroyed. The dragoons told me that, on their 
scouts, no living creature was to be seen ; except now and 
then a few camp scavengers, (turkey buzzards,) picking 
the bones of some unfortunate fellows, who had been shot 
or cut down, and left in the woods above ground. In my 
visit to General Greene's camp, as there was some danger 
from the enemy, I made a circuitous route to General 
Marion's camp, then on Santee river, to get an escort; 
which he gave me, of twenty infantry and twenty cavalry. 
ThesH, with the volunteers that attended me from George- 



56 WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 

town, made (is pretty strong. On my way from General 
Marion's to General Greene's camp, my plantation was in 
the direct road, where I called and stayed a night. On 
entering the place, as soon as the negroes discovered that 
I was of the party, there was immediately a general 
alarm, and an outcry through the plantation, that *■ Mmiasa 
was come! Maussa was come!' and they were running 
from every part with great joy to see me. I stood in the 
piazza to receive them. 1 hey gazed at me with astonish- 
ment, and every one came and took me by the hand, say- 
ing, 'God bless you, Maussa! we glad for see you, 
Maussa,' and every now and then some one or other 
would come out with a 'Ky!'* and the old Africans 
joined in a war song in their own language, of ' Welcome 
the warrior home !' It was an affecting meeting between 
the slaves and their master. The tears stole from my eyes 
and ran down my cheeks. A number of gentlemen who 
were with me at the time, could not help being affected 
by the scene. I then possessed about two hundred slaves, 
and not one of them left me during the war, although they 
had great offers — nay, some were carried down to work on 
the British lines; yet they always contrived to make their 
escape and return home. My plantation I found to be a 
desolate place; stock of every kind taken off; the furniture 
carried away. My estate had been under sequestration. 
The next day we arrived at General Greene's camp," &c. 
The 6on//om?n?(; of this narrative is delightful. It shows 
something of that amiable character, which curiously con- 
trasted, in Moultrie, with his firmness of purpose, and in- 
flexible decision. On the 14th December, 1782, the Bri- 
tish evacuated Charleston, and the American army under 
Greene, resumed possession of it. Moultrie w-as necessa- 
rily conspicuous in the triumphant procession. His feel- 

• "Ky!'' An African interjection, showing a delighted astonishment, 
equivalent to "Is it possible 1— can the good new« be really true''"— 
Editor. 



HISDEATH. OT 

iijgs may be conjectured. He returned to the native city 
for which he had so frequently fought, now in the smiles, 
and now under the frowns of fortune. "It was a proud 
day to me," he exclaims, in the fulness of his heart; "and 
I felt myself much elated at seeing ihe balconies, the doors 
and windows, crowded wi;h the patriotic fair, the aged 
citizens and others, congratulating us on our return home, 
saying, 'God bless you, gentlemen — God bless you !— 
You are welcome home!'" 

The close of the revolutionary war did not close the 
public career of Moultrie. The establishment of a new 
government — that of a republican state — afforded a grate- 
ful opportunity to his countrymen, of which they promptly 
availed themselves, to acknowledge his great and patriotic 
service. In 1785, he was raised to the gubernatorial 
^hair of South Carolina, being the third person to whom 
this honour had been accorded. During his administra- 
tion, the town of Columbia was lai(] out for the seat of 
government. In 1794, he was a second time elected to 
this office, the duties of which he fulfilled with honour and 
to the satisfaction of all parlies. His career, hencefor- 
ward, to the close of his life, was one of uninterrupted and 
honourable repose. Slander never presumed to smutch his 
garments. Of a calm, equable temper, great good sense, 
a firm undaunted spirit, a kind heart, and easy indulgent 
moods, he was beloved by his personal associates, and 
revered by all. His character is one of those of which his 
career will sufficiently speak. He lived beyond the ap- 
pointed limits of human life — dying on the 27th Septem- 
ber, 1805, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. His name, 
deeds, and virtues, constitute a noble portion of American 
character, to which we may point the attention of our 
8ons, with a sure confidence in the (xcellence of his 
example 



BRIGADIKR-GENERAL JOSEPH REED. 

WnKN Washington wtMit into winter-quarters, aHer 
the victories of Trenton ami Princeton had brought the 
campaign of 1776 to a close so unexpectedly successful, 
his thouglits were employed in maturing new j)lans of 
military organization, and in obtaining the aid of able 
associates in the service of the country. More than a 
year's e\}>erience as commander-in-chief, and the disas- 
ters as well as the success of the last campaign, had shown 
him not only the necessities of the service, but the cha- 
racters and qualilications of men who had been his com- 
panions in the councils and conduct of the war. , liesides 
the appointment of additional genera^ officers, a subject 
which he hail greatly at heart was to give increased effi- 
ciency to the cavalry service of the army. The necessity 
for this was strongly felt. The nature of the country, and 
the manner in which the war was carried on were calcu- 
lated to give to cavalry service many an opportunity of 
contributing to the success of the American cause. Well 
convinced of this, and strengthened in his conviction by 
the fresh exjierience of his camjiaign in the Jerseys, 
W^ashington wrote to Congress, on the 22d of January, 
1777 : — " I beg leave to recommend Colonel Reed for the 
command of the horse as a person, in my opinion, in every 
way qualilied ; lor he is extremely active and enterpris- 
ing, many signal ])roofs of which he has given this cam- 
paign." 

Irj the month of May, 1777, Joseph Reed, of Pennsyl- 
vania, was elected by Congress a brigadier in the conti- 
nental army, and shortly allerwards a resolution was 
adopted empowering the commander-in-chiel to give the 
68 



APPOINTED A BHIGADIKK-UKNKRAL. 59 

command of the light-horse to one of the generals already 
appointf'd. It was in anticijiation of such a lotter that 
Washington had said in a private letter: — <'IfCongies8 
have it not in contemplation to appoint a general of horse, 
but leave it to me to assign one of the brigadiers already 
appointed to that command, I shall assuredly place Gene- 
ral Reed there, as it is agreeable to my own recom- 
mendation and original design." On the day on which 
Washington received the resolution of Congress, he wrote 
to General Reed an official letter, assigning to him the 
command of the cavalry, and in a private letter to him, 
he added : — " I sincerely wish that you may accept the 
appointment of Congress and the post I am desirous of 
placing you in, and must beg to be favoured with an an- 
swer iirimediately on the subject, as the service will not 
admit of delay. A general ofhcer in that department 
would not only take off a great deal of trouble from rne, but 
be a means of bringing the regiments into order and ser- 
vice with much more facility than it is in my power, di- 
vided as they are, pos!-Jbly to do." 

Such was the distinguished mark of Washington's mili- 
tary' and personal confidence in Reed's character as a pa- 
triot soldier, and it will accord with the plan of these vo- 
lumes to show how that confidence had been won, and 
how it was sustained by the valour and soldierly ability 
which Reed displayed in subsequent campaigns — to trace 
their friendship and their companionship in arms. 

The story of Reed's military career is in all respects 
illustrative of a revolutionary period of history. The pre- 
paration and aims of his life were purely civil ; the whole 
course of his education was for a peaceful profession, and 
when he became a soldier, it was not with any purpose 
of giving himself up to a new vocation, but because the 
necessities of a revolution placed him for a time in a new 
8j)here of duties. Civil pursuits were laid aside but not 
abandoned. At his country's call the unexpected respon- 



60 J C S E P H R E E D. 

sibilities of military rank were cheerfully undertaken, 
without a thought however of entering permanently upon 
the profession of arms, and without a solicitude for mili- 
tary promotion. His connection with the army of the 
Revolution had its immediate origin in the personal 
friendship of Washington, at whose solicitation he ac- 
cepted the several military appointments which were con- 
ferred upon him, and with whom he afterwards continued 
to serve as a volunteer. 

Joseph Reed was born at Trenton, in New Jersey, on 
the 27th of August, 1742. Having received a liberal and 
sound education, he prepared himself for professional 
usefulness by a thorough course of law-studies, which he 
completed at the Temple, in London. With the prospects 
of peaceful pursuits in civil life, he settled in the city of 
Philadelphia, where he devoted his talents and industry 
successfully to the practice of his profession. With the 
progress of political affairs he was at the same time ac- 
tively conversant, and was among the most strenuous in 
the province of Pennsylvania in opposing the obnoxious 
measures of the ministry and the parliament, and in as- 
serting the justice of the colonial cause. His anticipa- 
tions of the results of the contest between the mother- 
country and the colonies were at an early period clear 
and decided. Studious of the course of events, and fore- 
seeing their consequences, he forewarned wherever he 
thought the warning might prove availing, either to deter 
the oppressor or to animate resistance. 

It was as early as the summer of 1774, and to a minis- 
ter of the crown, that he wrote : — " A few days ago we 
were alarmed with a report that General Gage had can- 
nonaded the town of Boston. So general a resentment, 
amounting even to fury, appeared everywhere, that I 
firmly believe, if it had not been contradicted, thousands 
would have gone at their own expense, to have joined in 
tlie revenge. I believe had the news proved true, ao * 



LETTERS AND OPINIONS. 61 

army of forty thousand men, well provided with every 
thing except cannon, would before this have been on its 
march to Boston. From these appearances, and the de- 
cided language of all ranks of people, I am convinced, 
my lord, that if blood be once spilled we shall be in- 
volved in all the horrors of a civil war. Unacquainted 
either from history or experience with the calamities inci- 
dent to such a state, with minds full of resentment at the 
severity of the mother-country, and stung with the con- 
tempt with which their petitions have always been re- 
ceived, the Americans are determined to risk all the con- 
sequences. I am fully satisfied, my lord, and so I think 
must every man be, whose views are not limited to the 
narrow bounds of a single province, that America never 
can be governed by force ; so daring a spirit as animates 
her will require a greater power than Great Britain can 
spare, and it will be one continued conflict till depopula- 
tion and destruction follow your victories, or the colonies 
establish themselves in some sort of independence," 

Such was the bold and manly description which the 
young American gave of the indomitable spirit of his 
countrymen — such was the plain language which the co- 
lonist in private life addressed to the minister who stood 
beside the British throne — such was the unavailing warn- 
ing more than half a year before blood was spilled on the 
first battle-field of the American Revolution. Writing at 
the same time to a friend in London, Mr. Reed said: — 
" In my opinion, the first drop of blood spilled in America 
will occasion a total suspension of all commerce and con- 
nection. We are indeed on the melancholy verge of 
civil war. United as one man, and breathing a spirit of 
the most animating kind, the colonies are resolved to risk 
the consequences of opposition to the late edicts of par- 
liament. All ranks of people, from the highest to the 
lowest, speak the same language, and, I believe, will act 
tlie sam.e part. I know of no power in this country that 



62 JOSEPHREED. 

can p;otect an opposer of the public voice and conduct. 
A spirit and resolution is manifested which would not 
have disgraced the Romans in their best days.^' 

It was to his friend and fellow-patriot, Josiah Qaincy, 
that Reed wrote : "All now is union and firmness; and 
I trust we shall exhibit such a proof of public virtue and 
enlightened zeal in the most glorious of ail causes, as will 
hand down the present age with the most illustrious cha- 
racters of antiquity. * * * England must see that 
opposition to parliamentary tyranny is not local or par- 
tial. I congratulate you, my dear sir, upon the rising 
glory of America. Our operations have been almost too 
slow for the accumulated sufferings of Boston. Should 
this bloodless war fail of its effect, a great majority of the 
colonies will make the last appeal, before they resign 
their liberties into the hands of any ministerial tyrant." 

How true and earnest a sympathy dwelt in the hearts 
of the men of those times, and how solemn were their 
forebodings and their hopes, may be seen in the impres- 
sive response of Quincy, whose words sound with a deeper 
awe, proving as they did almost the last utterance of the 
dying patriot. 

" I look to my countrymen with the feelings of one who 
verily believes they must yet seal their faith and con- 
stancy with their blood. This is a distressing witness 
indeed. But hath not this ever been the lot of humanity .-' 
Hath not blood and treasure in all ages been the price of 
civil liberty ? Can Americans hope a reversal of the laws 
of our nature, and that the best of blessings will be ob- 
tained and secured without the sharpest trials .'' Adieu, 
my friend, my heart is with you, and whenever my coun- 
trymen command, my person shall be also." 

When Washington came to Philadelphia as a delegate 
from Virginia to the first continental Congress, there ap- 
pears to have grown up during his abode there an inti- 
macy between him and Joseph Reed, and it was in the 



JOINSTHEARMY. 63 

sympathies and conferences of those times that the found- 
ation was laid of a confidential friendship which was 
strengthened by the union of counsels and efforts in the 
most anxious hours of the Revolution. When by virtue 
of his appointment as commander-in-chief, Washington 
proceeded to the seat of war, he was accompanied by seve- 
ral of his personal friends. Among them Mr. Reed found 
himself attracted to the camp at Cambridge and Wash- 
ington's head-quarters by the joint motives of private 
friendship and public zeal. It was unexpected news to 
his family and the friends he had left in the quiet homes 
where the war had not yet reached, when intelligence 
was brought that he had accepted from Washington the 
appointment of his military secretary. This unpremedi- 
tated and unlooked-for step was the beginning of a mili- 
tary career which made Joseph Reed one of the generals 
in the war of American independence. It was probably 
with no thought of changing civil for military life that he 
had left his home, but in reply to some friendly remon- 
strance against the step he had taken, he wrote : " I have 
no inclination to be hanged for half-treason. When a 
subject draws his sword against his prince he must cut 
his way through, if he means afterwards to sit down in 
safety. I have taken too active a part in what may be 
called the civil part of opposition to renounce without 
disgrace the public cause when it seems to lead to dan- 
ger, and have a most sovereign contempt for the man who 
'an plan measures he has not spirit to execute." 

Mr. Reed was thus brought into relations of constant 
and domestic intimacy with Washington. He was a 
member of his family, and the duties of the secretaryship 
were such as not only to lead to intercourse of a most 
confidential nature, but to enable the secretary to give 
valuable assistance to the commander-in-chief amid the 
nranifold and perplexing cares of his station. The office 
was also important as giving Mr. Reed a kind of military 



64 JOSEPH REED. 

apprenticeship, and of bringing into exercise the talents 
and energies which he possessed for a soldier's life. It 
was in this first service, and in such close connection 
with Washington, that he learned a soldier's duties, and 
acquired apparently that taste for a soldier's life, which 
during an important part of the war led him away from 
civil into military service. When the pressure of public 
and private business made it necessary lor Reed to return 
for a season to Philadi'lphia, the value of his services and 
the strength of Washington's aifection for him are best 
shown by the extended and confidential correspondence 
which was maintained between them. To no one did 
Washington more freely unbosom himself in his most anx- 
ious hours — from no one did he more freely invite unre- 
served and canilid counsel. It has been remarked Uiat 
Washington wrote to his first secretary with an openness, 
a carelessness, a famiHarity, and a jocularity of tone 
which he seems never to have used to any other person, 
and which places his character almost in a new light. 

In the early part of 1776, the office of adjutant-general 
became vacant by the promotion of General Gates, and 
Washington's niiiul immediately turned to his favourite 
secretary as his choice for this important and difficult 
post. During a visit to Pluladel[)hia he held a personal 
conference with Congress, and, at his recommendation, 
Joseph Reed was elected adjutant-general of the conti- 
nental army. Thus it is that in periods of revolutionary 
changes, men become soldiers almost unawares. The 
appointment, sudden and unsolicited, gave a new direc- 
tion to Reed's life. The manly afiection with which he 
communicated it to his wife is at once characteristic of the 
man and of the times. 

"You will be surprised," he wrote to her, "but I hope 
not dejected, when I tell you that a great revolution has 
happened in my prospects and views. Yesterday tli»* 
general sent for me, and in a very obliging manner 



APPOINTED ADJUTANT-GENERAL. 65 

pressed me to accept tlie office of adjutant-general, which 
General Gates lately fdled. The proposal was new and 
surprising, so that I requested till this day to consider of 
it. I objected my want of military knowledge, but seve- 
ral members of Congress and the general treated it sc 
lightly, and in short said so many things, that I have con- 
sented to go. The appointments of the office will help to 
support us till these calamitous times are at an end. Be- 
sides, this post is honourable, and if the issue is favour- 
able to America, mu.st put me on a respectable scale. 
Should it be otherwise, I have done enough to expose 
myself to ruin. I have endeavoured to act for the best, 
and hope you will think so." 

In a few days after his appointment, Colonel Reed joined 
the army and entered on his new duties. The adjutant- 
generalship of even a well-disciplined and veteran army 
is a post of high responsibility and of arduous labours. 
The toils and responsibilities of the office were greatly 
aggravated in an army like the continental army, com- 
posed not only of raw and untrained troops, but of 
elements in all respects heterogeneous. The task of 
discipline was most discouraging, but the share of it 
which belonged to the adjutant-general was executed 
with a vigilance and energy which justified Washington's 
choice ; and when the office was resigned, Reed was en- 
titled to say to Congress : " I have the satisfaction of re- 
flecting that, during my continuance in office, the army 
never was surprised, (for Long Island was a separate com- 
mand, and I was not there till I accompanied the gene- 
ral, ) that I never was absent one hour fiom duty during 
;he whole summer, fall, and winter, till sent to stir up the 
tuilitia of Jersey " 

Tt belongs to history or to more elaborate biography than 
a work like this, to trace the course of the campaign in 
New York and New Jersey, and the services of the gene- 
ral and staff officers who shared in it with Washington. 

6* E 



66 J O S E P II R E E D. 

It will be appropriate here rather to notice some of the 
interesting incidents connected with the history of that 
period, especially those in which the subject of this notice 
bore a part. 

When Lord Howe arrived in America, as the British 
commander-in-chief and commissioner, it is well known 
that at the outset difficulties in the way of the proposed 
negotiation arose from the reluctance to recognise in any 
way the official rank and title of the American com- 
mander-in-chief. To Reed, as adjutant-general, was in- 
trusted the conduct of the first interview. It took place 
on the 14th of July, about half-way betw-een Governor's 
Island and Staten Island, where the boats met. The par- 
ticulars are thus given by Colonel Reed: 

'< After I had written my letter to you, a flag came in 
from Lord Howe. The general officers advised the gene- 
ral not to receive any letter directed to him as a private 
gentleman, I was sent down to meet the flag. A gen- 
tleman, an oflicer of the navy, met us, and said he had a 
letter from Lord Howe to Mr. Washington. I told him 
we knew no such person in the army. He then took out 
a letter directed to George Washington, Esquire, and 
offered it to me. I told him I could not receive a letter 
to the general under such a direction. Upon which he 
expressed much concern ; said the letter was rather f)f a 
civil than military nature ; that Lord Howe regretted he 
had not come sooner ; that he had great powers, and it 
was much to be wished the letter could be received. I 
told him I could not receive it consistently with my duty. 
Here we parted. After he had gone some distance he put 
about, and we again met him. He then asked me under 
what title General — but catcliing himself — Mr. Washing- 
ton chose to be addressed. I told him the general's sta- 
tion in the army w^as well known ; that they could be at 
no loss ; that this matter had been discussed last summer, 
of which I supposed the admiral could no* be ignorant 



SKIRMISH AT NEW YORK. G7 

He then expressed his sorrow at the disappointment and 
here we parted. I cannot help thinking but that we 5hall 
have a renewal of it to-day, or a communication of the 
business in some other way. For though I have no 
hopes that the letter contains any terms to which we can 
accede, or, in short, any thing more than a summons of 
submission, yet the curiosity of the people is so great, 
and if it is, as may be supposed, couched in strong and 
debasing terms, it would animate the army exceedingly 
to do their duly." 

Reed's first service in battle was at the time of the 
series of engagements on Long Island, at the close of the 
month of August, 1776. lie accompanied Washington 
when he crossed over from New York to Brooklyn, and 
remained on Long Island till the embarkation of the whole 
American forces was effected, and the troops landed in 
New York. Disastrous as had been the result of the bat- 
tle of Long Island, it was the first time in the war that 
American soldiers had met the enemy in the field, and it 
had in some measure given proof of their ability to en- 
counter a disciplined army in open conilict. The heavy 
loss upon Long Island had however dispirited the troops, 
and this became evident in the disorderly flight, which 
Washington witnessed with so much indignation, when 
the advance guards of the British army landed on New 
York Island. The engagement that unexpectedly occur- 
red on the 17th of September, had a happy effect in re- 
storing the confidence of the American soldiers, and 
proving their strength. It was indeed their first success- 
ful encounter in open field. Colonel Reed was so fortu- 
nate as to participate in it. Speaking of it, he said :-- 
«It hardly deserves the name of a battle ; but as it was a 
scene so different from what had happened the day before, 
jt elevated the spirits of our troops, and in that respect 
has been of great service." A report was brought to 
head-quarters that the enemy was advancing in three 



68 J S E P H R E t D. 

large columns. The frequency of false alarms <t>( the 
kind causing some distrust, the adjutant-genera went 
down to the most advanced post, and while conversing 
with the officer of the guard, the enemy's advance ap- 
peared and gave their fire, at the distance of about fifty 
yards. The fire was returned, and the men held their 
ground, until being overpowered with numbers they were 
forced to retire, — the enemy continuing to advance rap- 
idly. The British bugles were sounded, as in a fox- 
cJiase, as an insult to their retreating foe. The adjutant- 
g<-neral hastened to head-quarters to obtain Washington's 
or tiers for a pro})er support to the guards that had been 
d iven in, and returned, in (company with Putnam and 
Greene, with a detachment of Virginians, commanded 
b'f Major Leitch. These were joined by a party of Con- 
n'"'cticut troops, led by Colonel Knowlton. «< In a few 
minutes," as Reed described it, << our brave fellows 
mounted up the rocks, and attacked the enemy with great 
spirit, and pressing on with great ardour, the enemy gave 
way, and left us the ground, which was strewed pretty 
thick with dead, chiefly the enemy, though it since turns 
out that our loss is also considerable. The pursuit of a fly- 
ing enemy was so new a scene that it was with difficulty 
our men could be brought to retreat, which they did in 
very good order. You can hardly conceive the change 
it has made in our army. 'I'he men have recovered their 
spirits, and feel a confidence which before they had quite 
lost." This advantage was not gained, however, without 
the loss of Knowlton and Leitch, who both fell mortally 
wounded. <* Our greatest loss," said Reed, " is poor 
Knowlton, whose name and spirit ought to be immortal. 
I assisted him off, and when gasping in the agonies 
of death, all his inquiry was, if we had driven the 
enemy." 

Reed continued to share with Washington the cares 
and dangers of the campaign of 1776, and remained with 



SERVICES IN NEW JERSEY 69 

mm until he was despatched, during the retreat through 
New Jersey, to use his influence with the legislature of 
that state to raise more troops. It was at that time that 
he proceeded to carry into effect the intention which he 
had already communicated to Washington, of resigning 
the commission of adjutant-general. Believing that the 
active operations of the campaign were over, and that both 
armies were aboutto go into winter-quarters, Col. Reed sent 
his commission in a letter to the president of Congress. 
At midnight of the same day he received an express from 
Washington, informing him that the enemy, encouraged 
by the broken state of the American army, had changed 
their plan, and were advancing rapidly towards the Dela- 
ware. On receiving this intelligence, he instantly de- 
spatched a messenger to recall his resignation. The mes- 
senger reached Philadelphia before the session of Congress 
was opened for the day, and returned with the commis- 
sion, with which Reed rejoined Washington at Trenton. 
After a few days he was ordered by the commander-in- 
chief, as the bearer of a special message to Congress, to 
urge the necessity of hastening on the reinforcements to 
the army, now alarmingly diminished. This appeal 
brought out a body of Pennsylvania militia, which were 
posted under the command of General Cadwalader, at 
Bristol, where the adjutant-general was sent by Washing- 
ton to assist in organizing these new levies. His know- 
ledge of the country and acquaintance with the inhabit- 
ants, enabled him also to render important service, by 
obtaining accurate information for Washington respecting 
the movements of the enemy. During the campaign 
Reed appears to have been the earnest advocate of offen- 
sive operations, wherever there was a reasonable prospect 
of success. This was characteristic of a spirit that ap- 
pears to have been full of enterprise and energy, and of 
an ardent and somewhat impetuous temper ; he thought, 
too that the state of the American cause left no choice 



70 



JOSEPH REED. 



but to run the risk of striking a bold and decisive blow. 
'< The militia," he argued, " must be taken before their 
spirits and patience are exhausted ; and the scattered, 
aivided state of the enemy affords us a fair opportunity of 
trying what our men will do when called to an offensive 
ittack." His great solicitude at this time especially 
was for resuming offensive operations, and it was from 
Bristol, on the 22d of December, he wrote to Washing- 
ton : " Will it not be possible, ray dear general, for your 
troops, or such part of them as can act with advantage, 
to make a diversion or something more, at or about Tren- 
ton ? The greater the alarm, the more likely will success 
attend the attacks. If we could possess ourselves again 
of New Jersey, or any considerable part of it, the effects 
would be greater than if we had never left it." 

It was with the frankness of a true friendship, and with 
confiden('e in the wisdom and good feeling of Washington, 
that Reed added : " Allow me to hope that you will con- 
sult your own good judgment and spirit, and not let the 
goodness of your heart subject you to the influence of 
opinions from men in every respect your inferiors," On 
the same day that this letter was written to urge a move- 
ment which, perhaps, was already in contemplation at head- 
quarters, W^ashington sent for Reed, and communicated 
to him the outlines of a plan of attack on the Hessians at 
Trenton. The adjutant-general was then sent to assist 
in the command of an attack to be made simultaneously 
on the Hessians under Count Donop, posted lower down. 
The latter movement having failed in consequence of the 
state of the river. Reed rejoined the main body of the 
army in time to share in the battle of Princeton, and the 
operations that led to it. 

The success of military operations being always more 
or less dependent on accurate topographical knowledge, 
this was especially the case at the close of the campaign 
of 1776, and to the knowledge thus needed it was hap- 



J!. F Fair near Princeton. 71 

pily in Reed's power to contribute largely. Trenton was 
his birth-place, the home of his boyhood, — Princeton 
was his abode during his college years, but how little 
could he have dreamed, in the early days of his life, in 
the times "^f colonial loyalty, that the familiarity which, 
as a youth, he w^as, almost unconsciously, acquiring with 
the roads, and water-courses and fords, would one day 
enable him to do good service to his country in her hour 
of peril. The ravages of the enemy had struck such ter- 
ror among the people, that no rewards could tempt any of 
them to go into Princeton, where the main body of the 
British army had advanced, to obtain intelligence. The 
adjutant-general having secured the services of six horse- 
men, volunteers from the Philadelphia troop, went to re- 
connoitre the enemy's advance-posts ; and this little party 
did not return until, besides accomplishing their special 
object, they had distinguished themselves by an adven- 
ture, the intrepidity of which was as remarkable as its 
success. The party had advanced to within about two 
miles of Princeton, near enough to have sight of the top 
of the college buildings, when a British soldier was seen 
passing from a barn to a farm-house. Two of the party 
were sent to bring him in, but others being seen, the 
whole of the small party was ordered to charge. The 
charge was made, and twelve dragoons, w-ell armed, with 
their pieces loaded, and with the advantage of the house, 
surrendered to seven horsemen, six of whom had never 
seen an enemy before, and, almost in sight of the British 
army, were carried off and brought prisoners into the 
American camp at Trenton on the same evening. The 
intelligence gained by this gallant adventure, under 
Reed's command, was that Cornwallis had reached 
Princeton with a large reinforcement, and that the whole 
British force, amounting to some seven or eight thousand 
men. were soon to march to dislodge Washington from 
I'renton. 



72 JOSEPHREED. 

Il was undoubtedly the most critical moment in the 
American Revolution, when the advance division of the 
British army made its appearance in Washington's front, 
posted as he was, near Trenton, with nearly the whole 
force on which the cause of American freedom depended. 
It is easy now to see how narrow was the escape from 
utter ruin — how the fresh-won victory at Trenton might 
have proved the delusive prelude to the slaughter or the 
surrender of the American army. Washington's position 
was apparently a strong one, but the real danger of it 
was felt, when Reed, from his intimate knowledge of the 
country, suggested that while the stream, behind whica 
the army lay, was not fordable in their front, or the im- 
mediate neighbourhood, there were fords at no great dis- 
tance, — that if the enemy should divert them in front 
and at the same time throw a body of troops across the 
Assanpink, a few miles up, the American army would be 
completely enclosed, with the Delaware in their rear, 
over which there would be neither time nor means to 
"ffect a retreat. The adjutant-general was accordingly 
ordered to ascertain the condition of the fords, one of 
which, at a distance of only three miles, was found to 
admit of an easy passage. The campaign which had 
begun with the surj)rise in the battle of Long Island, 
might have ended with a surprise far more disastrous, for 
it would have been without the possibility of retreat. 
The position of the army was untenable. To await for de 
fence was to await destruction. W^hen the sun went 
down on the 2d of January, 1777, the advance guards of 
the two armies were separated only by a narrow stream : 
the sentinels were walking within sound of each other's 
tread ; the American and the British fires were burnina: 
so near that they seemed like the fires of one encamp- 
ment. From that extremity of danger came the final 
glory of the campaign, for the midnight march on Prince- 
ton was resolved upon. The only letter or written ordei 



BATTLE OF PRINCETON. 73 

which is known to remain as a memorial of the doings of 
that night of anxiety and of peril, is the adjutant-general's 
letter to Putnam. It was probably written when the mid- 
night march had just begun — when the fires of the aban- 
doned American camp were still burning. 

« East side of Trenton Creek, January 2d, 1777. 
«< Twelve o"* clock at night. 
*' Dear General Putnam, — The enemy advanced 
ipon us to-day. We came to the east side of the river 
or creek which runs through Trenton, when it was re- 
solved to make a forced march and attack the enemy in 
Princeton. In order to do this with the greater security, 
our baggage is sent off to Burlington. His excellency 
begs you will march immediately forward with all the 
force you can collect at Crosswicks, where you will find 
a very advantageous post : your advanced party at Allen- 
town, You will also send a good guard for our baggage, 
wherever it may be. Let us hear from you as often as 
possible. We shall do the same by you. 

" Yours, J. Reed." 

This letter is quoted, not because the plan of this w'ork 
admits of the introduction of original documents, but 
because no language of mere description presents the 
doings of that important night so vividly to the imagina- 
tion. 

Having transmitted the commander-in-chief's last order 
on leaving the banks of the Assanpink, Reed, with the 
other staff officers, accompanied Washington to Prince- 
ton, and on that well-fought field bore his part in a 
battle to which his knowledge of the country had con- 
tributed. 

Af'er a campaign so gloriously ended, and when the 
army was fairly settled in winter-quarters, the adjutant- 
general of the army of 1776 was well entitled to carry 

Vol. it. 7 



74 JOSEPH REED. 

into effect his postponed purpose of resigning his com- 
mission. From the first to the very last of the difficult 
service of Ihat doubtful, and at one time almost desperate 
campaign, he was in the unintermitted discharge of his 
duties — ever active, enterprising, and intrepid. Enjoying 
Washington's confidential friendship, he knew, as the 
world has since known from the published correspond- 
ence, the deep cares — the thoughtful forebodings that 
saddened Washington's heroic mind. With Washington, 
Reed thought that, unless their countrymen rallied so as 
to give the enemy some successful stroke, the cause was 
hopeless. In the gloomiest days of the Revolution, Reed 
never ceased to be what he had been in more hopeful 
seasons, the earnest advocate of bold offensive operations, 
and his only fear was the apprehension of the predomi- 
nance of undecisive counsels. The gloom which hung 
over the country, as it witnessed the fading fortunes of a 
retreating army, never daunted him, and when there was 
least encouragement for activity, his zeal and patriotism 
displayed their highest energy. With feelings as ardent 
in private as in j)ublic life, he took not from his country's 
service one hour for domestic use, though his unpro- 
tected family were fugitives before a victorious enemy 
whose ravages struck dismay wherever they moved amid 
a helpless people. 

It was immediately at the close of this campaign that 
Washington recommended Congress to confer upon Reed 
the command of the cavalry in the continental army. It 
was an honourable tribute to his services, and showed the 
high sense which Washington entertained of his character 
as a soldier, and of his zealous fidelity to their common 
cause. The public sentiment was expressed in the vote 
of Congress, by which the late adjutant-general was elected 
a brigadier, and a special power of appointment being 
given to Washington, he was enabled to accomplish his 
wish of placing General Reed in command of the cavblry. 



A MISUNDERSTANDING. 76 

It is a fact honourable to both parties, and especially to 
the magnanimity of Washington, that at the very time he 
was applauding the services of General Reed, and not only 
recommending him to Congress, but himself promptly con- 
ferring a distinguished command in the army, their private 
friendship, v.'hich had been marked with so much of 
mutual esteem and confidential intimacy, was interrupted 
by a painful misunderstanding. There is something both 
in the conduct of the parties during this temporary and 
accidental alienation, and in their reconciliation, so finely 
illustrative of the lofty spirit of the heroic age of our 
American annals, that it may well be referred to as giv- 
ing to later times a salutary lesson. The circumstances 
were briefly these : during the retreat through the Jerseys, 
Reed wrote to General Charles Lee, with whom he was 
on familiar terms, lamenting the loss of the garrison at 
Fort Washington, and referring to the suspense in which, 
on that occasion, the mind of the commander-in-chief 
had been held by the conflicting opinions in his council. 
Lee's answer was full of characteristic extravagance of 
language, denouncing what he called '< the curse of 
military indecision — that fatal indecision of mind, 
•which is a greater disqualification than stupidity or cow- 
ardice." This letter reached head-quarters while the 
adjutant-general was absent on his mission to the Jer- 
sey legislature, and, with the thought that it was offi- 
cial and not private, was opened and read by Washington, 
who, conjecturing that it must be the echo of some 
unfriendly expression on the part of one whom he had 
believed to be one of his nearest friends, was deeply 
wounded. The matchless mastery over his feelings, 
which crowned Washington's character with such placid 
dignity, was not, however, disturbed, and his sense 
of wrong was simply shown by inclosing Lee's letter 
>n a nolc to General Reed, in which the familiar and 



76 J o s i: P H R E E D. 

affectionate cordiality of his former and frequent cor- 
respondence was changed to cold and formal courtesy. 

Distressed as Reed was at thus finding himself the 
victim of false appearances, and Washington's cherished 
friendship for him forfeited by a misapprehension, he did 
not lose his self-control, but calmly, resolved to reserve 
himself for the means of a simple and manly explana- 
tion, by obtaining his own letter to Lee, and by placing 
it before Washington's eyes, to convince him that, natural 
as was his conjecture, it was a mistaken one. This was 
unhappily frustrated by Lee's capture, and the multiplied 
movements of the army at the close of the campaign al- 
lowed neither time nor opportunity for mere personal 
cares. Now, what is noticeable and worthy of all imita- 
tion is that this private estrangement of the two friends 
did not in the smallest measure effect their official rela- 
tions : it cannot be discovered that it was allowed by 
either of them to injure or even embarrass the public 
service. At no time did Reed render to Washington more 
active and untiring support and co-operation — never did 
he counsel or labour more earnestly to retrieve the for- 
tunes of Washington's most arduous campaign. At no 
time did Washington place more unreserved confidence 
in Reed's public zeal and patriotism, and when the cam- 
paign of 1776 had been brought to its triumphant close, 
it was, while the occasion of his private dissatisfaction re- 
mained yet unexplained, that Washington paid to Reed's 
military character and services the high tribute of raising 
him to one of the most responsible and honourable stations 
in the army. Such was Washington's magnanimity — 
such was the heroic elevation of his sense of public duty, 
beyond the reach of the common passions and frailties ol 
humanity! 

Having been disappointed in obtaining the letter to 
Lee, General Reed sought the only means of explanation 
left, by frankly stating to Washington the real charactei 



REFUSAL OF OFFICE. 77 

of the expressions he had used. This explanation was 
welcomed with the same candour with which it was given, 
and Washington hastened to express the gratification which 
he felt iu finding himself relieved from the painful influ- 
ence of his misapprehension. All doubt and suspicion 
was dispelled, and they were friends again as of old, with 
all the affection and cordiality and confidence of their 
well-proved friendship restored for ever. 

It is a curious and striking illustration of revolutionary 
times — their influence on the currents of men's lives, and 
the strange blending of civil and military occupations, that 
within the short space of about two months, Reed was 
elected a brigadier, and appointed by Washington gene- 
ral of cavalry, and also unanimously chosen, by the Ex- 
ecutive council of Pennsylvania, Chief Justice of that state. 
His unpremeditated soldier's life had won for him a sol- 
dier's honours, and his purposed professional career had 
secured such confidence as to place the highest judicial 
Dffice in his state at his disposal. 

The lust for office or rank appears not to have been an 
element in General Reed's public career, and it may per- 
haps be regarded as an example of primitive American 
republicanism, that he declined the several appointments 
just mentioned. In declining the military appointments, 
it was not his intention to separate himself from military 
service, which he knew that his intimate relations with 
Washington would always enable him to find as a volun- 
teer. He accordingly joined the army again, at the first 
news of the approach of the British army before the battle 
of Brandy wine. The plan of this work being not so much 
to give a biographical detail of the services of the gene- 
rals of the Revolution, as to pourtray their characters and 
illustrate their lives, it will be enough to say, that during 
the campaign of 1777, General Reed's services displayed 
that same active intrepidity — the unwearied passion for 
liiitary enterprise and adventure, which had attracled 

7* 



7S JOSEPHREED. 

Washington's admiration in the campaign of 177b', and 
caused him to select Reed for the command of the cavalry. 
Wherever we follow him in the military memorials of that 
campaign, we find him at one time rescuing his family at 
the approach of the British advance guard, who were in 
possession of his house on the Schuylkill within fifteen 
minutes after he had quitted it ; then rallying a small 
party with which he returned and carried off some pri- 
soners ; we find him again charged with the duty of re- 
connoitering with a party of Pulaski's horsemen, before 
the battle of Germantown, or with Lee's dragoons, to find 
plans of relief to the forts on the Delaw^are. His love of 
a soldier's life appears to have gone on increasing with 
his continuance of service, and perhaps with some con- 
sciousness of military talent. He appears too to have 
been actuated by a zeal to change, as far as possible, the 
defensive character of the American operations ; and now, 
as in the previous year, he is the advocate of offensive 
movements, suggesting or supporting plans of attack. 
When, at the battle of Germantown, the halt took place in 
consequence of Musgrave's regiment throwing itself into 
Chew's house, and the military scruple was suggested, 
that a fort in the enemy's possession must not be left in 
their rear, it is upon Reed's lips that an historian has 
placed the exclamation, uttered in the council of war — 
" What ! call this a fort, and lose the happy moment !" 

The same earnestness for active operations of attack, 
and the fertility of invention of military plans, are shown 
in the remarkable letter addressed to Washington, in an- 
ticipation of the army going into winter-quarters after the 
campaign of 1777. The prospect of attacking the British 
army within their intrenchments in Philadelphia had been 
abandoned, but General Reed, remembering how the suc- 
cesses at Trenton and Princeton had turned the tide of 
war a twelvemonth before, was hopeful enough to believe 
that the British garrison in New York mig-ht be surprised, 



PLAN OF AN ATTACK ON NEW YORK. 79 

and that city recovered, together with the capture of 
valuable military stores there. Having matured this idea 
in his own mind, he submitted to Washington an elabo- 
rate plan for a forced march and attack on New York, ac- 
companied with an amount of military argument and 
practical detail which shows how deeply his mind had 
become interested in the science of war, and how familiar 
with its business. In anticipation of the objection that the 
British troops would move from Philadelphia to the sup- 
port of the garrison in New York, he added, << With fifty 
horsemen and one hundred foot, I will undertake, by the 
destruction of bridges and the felling of trees, to make the 
march through New Jersey, at this season, a three weeks' 
journey for them." The plan was warmly supported by 
Greene, and some of the most energetic in Washington's 
council, but it was not thought advisable to attempt it. 
It would be idle, indeed, now to speculate on what might 
have been its success, but one cannot forbear thinking 
how it might have been the means of sparing the miseries 
of the cantonment at the Valley Forge, and snatching from 
the enemy a city which remained in their occupation till 
the close of the war. 

Sharing as General Reed did in the most important 
operations of the campaign of 1777, his time was divided 
between the duties of camp and Congress, into which he 
had been elected some time before. A letter from Wash- 
ington called him to head-quarters, to consult on the sub- 
ject of winter-quarters : his attendance for this purpose 
gave him an unlooked-for opportunity of taking part in 
the last engagement of the campaign, when the British 
army came out in full force, and the skirmish at White- 
marsh took place. General Reed was there without any 
command, being on a visit at head-quarters during an 
absence from Congress. While observing, at Washing- 
ton's desire, the movements of the enemy on one pari of 
Uie ground, a body of Pennsylvania militia was driven in 



80 J O S E P H R E E D. 

by a superior force. Rallying a party of the scattereu 
troops, Reed led them on a^ain, but at a second fire they 
broke and retreated, leaving him on the ground entangled 
by the fall of his horse, which had been shot under him. 
That gallant Delaware officer, Allen McLane, seeing his 
fall, and a party of the enemy advancing to bayonet him, 
ordered another charge, and at the same instant a single 
Maryland trooper galloped forward, and extricating 
General Heed, mounting him on his horse, effected his 
rescue. 

During the sad winter of the Valley Forge encamp- 
ment. General Reed blended his congressional and mili- 
tary services by his presence at camp as a member of the 
committee sent there at Washington's solicitation ; and it 
is characteristic that he found his duties in that wretched 
cantonment, with his former companions in arms, rather 
than on the floor of Congress. It was at that time one of 
his cares to devise some means of checking the atrocious 
system of irregular predatory warfare, which, conducted 
by refugee ofRcers, and stimulated by Tories in Philadel- 
phia, was spreading desolation and misery in the neigh- 
bourhood of the city. "If troops can be raised," said 
he, " for the special service of covering the country thus 
exposed, though I have given over all thoughts of pro- 
ceeding further in the military line, I would, for so de- 
sirable an end, accept any post in which I could be 
useful." 

Thoujih General Reed's services had for some time 
been only as a volunteer, and blended wuth his congres- 
sional functions, his attachment to the army was too 
strong for him to separate himself from its fortunes, until 
having accompanied Washington to the battle of Mon- 
mouth, he witnessed on that field the close of that part of 
the war of the Revolution which belongs to the Northern 
and Middle States. Having had some share in the four 
campaigns of 1775, 1776, 1777, and 1778, be closed « 



INCORRUPTIBLE I N T K G R I T Y. 8l 

military career, which had been extended far beyond his 
original intention, when he unexpectedly changed a citi- 
zen into a soldier's life. He was recalled to civic life, 
by being elected President of the state of Pennsylvania. 

It was just at the time that General Reed's military 
career closed, that he gave to his country the undying 
fame of an American patriot's incorruptible integrity. It 
was on the day before he left Philadelj)liia for the battle- 
field of Monmouth that he was approached by the corrupt 
offer of the l^ritish commissioner — ten thousand pounds 
sterling, and any office in the colonies in the king's gift. 
The vast temptation came in the insidious form of a pro- 
posed remuneration for influence and services to be em- 
ployed in reconciling the two countries — it came to a 
man, who, during some of the best years of his life had 
thrown aside his means of peaceful livelihood for the ser- 
vice of his country — it came to an impoverished soldier, 
with domestic claims upon him, which perhaps there 
might, in the future, be nought but poverty to provide for. 
The temptation was rei)ulsfd as prom})t]y and decidedly 
as it had come insidiously, when he answered — «' I am 

NOT WORTH PURCHASING, BUT SUCH AS I AM, THE KiNG OF 

Great Britain is not rich enough to do it." The an- 
swer was made with all the simplicity of a soldier's speech, 
and it will live for ever with the story of the American Re- 
volution. It gives to a page of our country's annals a 
glory which makes the sj)len(li(l contrast to that other page 
which is black with the record of Arnold's perfidy. The 
former tells us of a temptation that came of a sudden and 
insidiously, and how the instinctive innocence of a true 
man's purity was proof against it : the latter tells how the 
traitor was his own tempter — the architect of his own 
treason — the deliberate contriver of the iniquity which 
\as assigned his name to desperate infamy. 

When General Reed was withdrawn from militarv 
issociation with Washington and the generals of the 

F 



82 J O S E P H R E E D. 

Revoiu'ion, by being elevated to the chief magistracy of 
Pennsylvania, his former companions in arms took fresh 
hope and confidence from the belief that he would have 
increased power of giving strength to the common cause, 
and they continued to look to him as one whose autho- 
rity would be devoted to the vigorous prosecution of the 
war. It does not belong to this essay to treat of Presi- 
dent Reed's administration, further than to say that in the 
cabinet as in the fiekl he was the advocate of an active 
and efficient policy, of vigorous government, and of strict 
and equal justice. He had to encounter the opposition 
of open party, of foction, and far more malevolent 
than all, the unrelenting malice of disappointed toryism ; 
but he went fearless and straightforward on his path of 
duty, with the avowal of this indomitable resolution : — 
'< While there is a British soldier left in arms in these 
United States, not all the efforts of party, secret or open, 
poverty or danger, shall induce me to relinquish the sta- 
tion in which public confidence has placed me, and in 
which I can best oppose the common enemy. When 
these dangers are passed away, I care not how soon I fall 
into the rank of a private citizen, a station better suited to 
mytalents and inclination." The confidence of the people, 
on which President Reed relied, never forsook him, and 
having been twice re-elected, his administration closed 
in the same month in which the surrender of the British 
army at Yorktown really ended the war of the Revolu- 
tion. It was then that private Hfe was welcome to 
General Reed. 

It may be added, that at one period of his administra- 
tion he appears gladly to have availed himself of an occa- 
sion to renew his military services in connection with his 
official station. «' Your intention," wrote Washington to 
him, " of leading your militia, in case they can be brought 
into the field, is a circumstance honourable to yourself 
and flattering to me. The example alone would ha^e 



H I S D E A T H. 83 

Us weight ; but, seconded by your knowledge of disci- 
pline, abilities, activity and bravery, it cannot fail of happy 
effects. Men are influenced greatly by the conduct of 
their superiors, and particularly so, when they have their 
confidence and affections." President Reed once more 
resumed a soldier's duties, when he took the field in com- 
mand of the new levies, intended to co-operate in a move- 
ment against New York, and remained at the camp, which 
he formed at Trenton, until Washington, finding himself 
obliged to relinquish the proposed attack, recommended 
that the Pennsylvania troops return to their homes. 

A few months before his death. General Reed was again 
called to public life, by being elected to Congress, but his 
health was fast failing. Ten years of public service — offi- 
cial cares and labours — the manifold anxieties of troublous 
times — and superadded to all these, grief of the deepest 
and most sacred kind, had been doing their irreparable 
work upon him, and an early death completed a career of 
patriotic self-sacrifice — a life of public virtue founded on 
the only sure basis, private Christian morality. He died on 
the 5th of March, 1785, at the age of forty-three years. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN GREATON. 

John Greaton, of Massachusetts, commanded one 
of the regiments despatched to Canada under General 
Thompson, in April, 1776. He was constantly but not 
conspicuously engaged during the war. On the 7th of 
January, 1783, he was appointed a brigadier-general, 
and he remained with the army until it was discharged. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN. 

In few things was the war of American independence 
more distinguished than in the variety of talent and of 
character manifested by those who contributed chiefly to 
its success. In its civil aspect it was promoted by the 
power of refined and untutored eloquence, of deep and 
accurate learning, and of native sagacity, which knew 
little of human lore ; and its military sages were alike 
only in their steady devotion to the cause of their country. 
The utmost attainments of European science often met in 
the council of war witli the rude soldier of America, who 
had been taught by no masters save his own brave heart, 
and the scenes of a life in the wilderness. 

Among the boldest and most successful of the officers 
whom America may claim as peculiarly her own, was 
General Daniel Morgan. He was born of Welch parent- 
age, in New Jersey, in the year 1736. We know but little 
of his early life. His family was of the middling class, 
by no means so poor as has been represented by most of 
his biographers, and it had an interest in some lands in 
Virginia, to attend to which he first visited that colony, 
when about seventeen years of age. With a fine physical 
constitution, and a mind full of buoyancy and enterprise, 
being pleased with the country, he determined to remain 
there ; and investing his stock of money in a pair of horses 
and a wagon, entered upon some business in which there 
was reason for supposing he could make them profitable, 
near the town of Winchester. He continued here many 
years in the pursuits in which he first engaged, excel- 
lently fitted to strengthen the bodily powers arid to in- 
crease such a love for excitement and h?;5ard as he is 
known to have possessed in after life. 
84 




IE}K[l(E»<E[Er3V W). m^mQ,fyr]. 



0. 



^< .^; 



CAMPAIGN W I T H H liA JJ I) O f. K. 85 

Wli'^ri (ji*:ft<:ni\ HrafJdock'H arrny chuufHtucj-A its ruhrrji 
igainsi Fort iJuqufisne, it wa.s a^;cornpariietl by »f,veral 
corps of provincial troops, and we are rwt «urpri«ed to 
find Morgan in its ranks. lie wa« now uiw'Af.en years of 
age, and though yet hardly arrived at njan's estate, he had 
attained his full statun; and was possessed of great bodily 
•trength. He dnive his own team in the baggage train, and 
while on the route an incident occiirred which might well 
be cxjnsidered as a disgraceful omen for the iiritish arms. 
The rijggedness of the way caused much difficulty with 
the baggage train. When some ifnjH;dimf;nt had stoppr-d 
a numbf.r of teams, a British officer approacbed Morgan, 
and with much impatience demanded why he did not go 
forward. He replied that be would move as wxjn as he was 
able. The officer yielded to increasing irritation, and with 
unmerited harshness declared that if he did not obey his 
orders he woijld riin him throigh with his sword. The 
high spirit of the American could not endure thl« iiiHult: 
he gave a fierce reply, anfl the officer made a pa«i at him 
with hifi v.j^poti. Morgan held In bin baud a heavy wagon 
whip; parrying the f-troke with the quick Ji(;»i of thought, 
he eUmeA with the officer; the sword v/sm broken in the 
struggle, and then using his whip with the nkill which long 
practice had given him, he inflictwl uji^m the Englishman 
a nuwt severe castigation. Buch a breach of military law 
was of <:(mn<i not U) \xi forgiven. Morgan waw tried by 
a court-martial which sentenced birn to rw^eive five hun- 
dred lashes. Preparations were inime^iiately made V) 
carry this sentence int^j effec-t, and from good authority we 
learn that the young victim bore this horrible punii-hmeiit 
with unshaken ry>nstancy. After receiving four hundred 
and fifty strokes he fainted from sufiering and loss of 
blood, and the remainder of the sentence was remitted. 
Three days afterwards the officer who bad been the occa- 
sion of this barbarity became convinced of his injustice, 
»nd seeking Morgan in the camp hospital, he implored 
Vol. II. 8 



86 D A N I i; L, M O R n A N. 

his forgiveness. Thus the brave woodsman was rendered 
unfit for duly, and was spared tlie danger and the disgrace 
of IJraddock's baltle-fiehl.* 

Not long after his return from this unhappy campaign, 
Morgan was appointed an ensign in the colonial service. 
His merit had become apparent to the government of his 
colony, and he had already gained the friendship of Wash- 
ington, which afterwards availed him on many trying oc- 
casions. His known courage and activity caused him to 
be em])loyed in services from which a more timid soul 
would have shrunk with alarm. Accompanied by two 
soldiers he was employed in carrying despatches to a fort 
on one of the dangerous frontiers of Virginia. While in 
cautious progress through the forest, suddenly the discharge 
of rifles was heard, and his two companions fell dead by 
his siile, and he himself received the only severe wound 
that he ever had during his whole military career: a rille 
ball entered the back of his neck, and shattering his jaw 
passed out through his left cheek. Though he believed 
himself mortally vvounded his i)resenoe of mind did not fail. 
Leaning forward on his saddle he grasped the mane of his 
horse, and pnvssing his sj)urs into his side he darted for- 
ward at fidl speetl towards the fort. A single Indian fol- 
lowed him, eager lor his scalp, and Morgan in after years 
often spoke of the aj)peaTauce of this savage, who ran with 
his mouth o]k'u and ids tomahawk raised to strike the fatal 
blow, liut finding his pursuit vain, the savage threw the 
tomahawk with all his force, hoping it would reach the 
soldier ; but it fell short ; the horse with his bleeding rider 
gained the fort. Morgan was taken from the saddle per- 
fectly insensible, but proper treatment in six months en- 
tirely restored him. 

• The incident hero related must have occurred at some point between 
Mill's Creek and Fort Duquesnc. A tradition, not worthy of credit, 
points out the tree to whidi Morgan was bound, near Wytheville in ono 
of the southern counties of Virginia. iSeo Howe's Historical Collection* 
of Virginia, p. 616. 



PUGILISTIC COMBATS. 87 

From this time until the commencement of the revolu- 
tionary war he remained in Frederick county, employed in 
his former occupation. In this interval tradition tells us 
much of his fondness for rude sports, and for the excite- 
ment of the gaming table. Pugilistic encounters were his 
<laily pastime, and as his stature was lofty and his muscu- 
lar system very powerful, he was generally the victor. 
Few men of his time encountered him without signal de- 
feat. His fist was generally the first and last argument 
to which he resorted, and if it did not fidly convince the 
reason of those upon whom it was emi)loyed, n had a per- 
suasive power which few were disposed to gainsay. So 
frequent did these conflicts become ihat the place at which 
they usually occurred gained the distinctive name of << ])nt- 
tletown," and only within a few years past has it yielded 
this title for the more jieaceful name of Berryville. It is 
now the county-seat of Clarke, which was cut oiffrom Fred- 
erick county in i83G. But though Morgan was generally 
successfid, he has himself informed us of one reverse he 
encountered, which carries with it a moral too good to be 
lost. Passing along a road with his wagon, he met a gen- 
tleman of refined manners and appearance, riding on the 
pathway, who as he approached Morgan had his hat struck 
off by a bough overhead. This sto})ped him for a time, 
and Morgan, thinking, doubtless, that the stranger felt 
undue pride in sustaining the character of a gentleman, 
determined if possible to humble him. Alighting from 
his horse he addressed him: "Well, sir, if you want a 
fight I am ready for you!" The stranger in amazement 
assured him that he wanted no fight, and had made no 
signals to such purpose. But Morgan was not to be thus 
repulsed : he renewed his attempt, and urged a contest 
upon him until the gentleman became enraged, and in 
short terms accepted the challenge. The battle com- 
menced, and in brief space the stranger planted such a 
series of rapid and scientific blows upon Morgan's front 



88 DANIEL MORGAN. 

'bat he knocked him down, and indicted a most sahitary 
chastisement. Morgan never forgot this reverse, and often 
spoke of it afterwards as having had a happy effect upon 
his character.* 

With the first alarm of the revohitionary war the gallant 
"wagoner was in motion, and ready to aid his country. 
Congress appointed him a captain of provinci;ds, and so 
great was his reputation, that a short time after he pro- 
posed for recruits, ninety-six rillemen were enrolled in 
his company. This was the nucleus of that celebrated 
rifle corps which rendered so much brilliant service during 
the war. It was composed of men who had been trained 
in the forest, and accustomed to use their own weapon 
until they had acquired wonderful skill. They were hardy 
in body and dauntless in heart. Among them were a 
number of German extraction, who were afterwards w^ell 
known as the «' Dutch Mess," and of these Peter Lanck 
and John Shullz have won for themselves names whicu 
merit preservation. Morgan's men were all clad in tht 
cheap but graceful hunting shirt worn by the woodman of 
that day, and on arriving at the camp of Washington at 
(Cambridge, they were warmly greeted, and received the 
applause of all for their expeditious march. They well 
deserved this praise, for in three weeks they had travelled 
from Frederick county in Virginia, to Cambridge in Mas- 
sachusetts, a distance of nearly six hundred miles. 

For the comforts of a peaceful home, Morgan had 
now voluntarily accepted a service of unequalled hardship 
and danger. His industry in Frederick county had 
enabled him to purchase a fine farm, and his own labour 
had done much to render it productive. But in the camp 
of Washington his spirit could not long be kept inactive. 
The commander-in-chief was contemplating an expedition 



• For this incident we are indebted to General J. H. Carson of Fredfr 
«ick county, Virginia, wlio thinks it entirely authentic. 



CAMPAIGN IN CANADA. 8) 

which in its accomplishment rivalled the most daring en- 
terprises of departed ages. Montgomery was already in 
Canada where partial success had crowned his arms; but 
the capture of Quebec was deemed all-important, and to 
ensure it Washington resolved to send a detachment 
across the unexplored country between the province of 
Maine and the St. Lawrence river. To form any idea of 
the difficulty of the route, it should be remembered that 
the whole of this region was then covered by gloomy 
forests, in which even the red man could hardly find sub- 
sistence, and that in the w^inter season the country was 
bound in ice and snow which only yielded to the heats 
of a summer's sun. To command the expedition. Colo- 
nel Benedict Arnold was selected, and Captain Morgan 
eagerly sought a service so congenial to his habits and 
character. 

The whole detachment consisted of eleven hundred 
men, and they were formed into three divisions. After 
ascending the Kennebec as far as it was navigable, they 
were compelled to take to the forest roads. Morgan at 
the head of his riflemen formed the van guard, upon whom 
devolved the duty of exploring the country, sounding the 
fords, ])ioneering for tht ir companions, and seeking out 
spots where the batteaux might again be employed on the 
streams. They were then forced to pass through forests 
where man had never dwelt, to scale rugged mountains, 
to contend with torrents swollen by the snow storms of that 
region, to wade through marshes and quagmires which 
threatened to engulf them. Not only the baggage of the 
army but often their boats were borne on their shoulders 
at those places where the rivers were frozen, or where 
rapids and cataracts prevented their passage. The suf- 
ferings of thif devoted band could not be exaggerated. 
No subsistence could be obtained from the country, and 
to their other trials was soon added the horror of famine. 
They were dri'/en to feed upon their dogs, and even upon 

8* 



90 DANIELMORGAN. 

\he leather of their shoes, before they reached the first 
settlements of the Canadians, and astonished them by 
their account of an achievement which had theretofore 
been regarded as beyond human power. 

So much patient courage entitled them to success. 
But reinforcements had been received in Quebec. The 
garrison v^^as prepared, and Arnold, after making some 
demonstrations, was induced to retire to Point au Tremble 
twenty miles above the city, and await the coming of 
Montgomery. When the two forces were joined, they 
were yet inadequate to the assault of the strongest fortress 
in America ; but the hero who now commanded the Ame- 
ricans could not bear the thought of retreat. On the last 
day of the year 1775, in the midst of a furious snow-storm, 
the memorable attack was made, which resulted in the 
defeat of the assailants and the death of their illustrious 
leader. We must follow Morgan through a conflict in 
which he bore a distinguished part. He was in Arnold's 
division which attacked the side of the city farthest from 
the river. As they advanced, Arnold received a m\isket- 
ball in the leg, and notwithstanding his ow'n opposition, 
he was borne from the field. The command now devolved 
upon Morgan, who rushed to the combat with all the en- 
thusiasm of his nature. It was not yet daybreak, and the 
snT3w continued to fall in blinding eddies, but the Ame- 
rican riflemen advanced to the very foot of the works. 
Grapeshot were discharged from the garrison with but 
little eflfect ; the keen rifles were levelled through the em- 
brasures, and many of the enemy fell beneath their fire. 
Ladders were planted, and Morgan, in a voice which rose 
above the din of conflict, called to his men to follow, and 
immediately mounting, he sprang down among the gar- 
rison. He was followed by Cadet Charles Porterfield, 
and then by his whole corps. The enemy, appalled by 
such heroism, fell back to the second barrier. Success 
seemed now certain; and had the attack on the other side 



R E J I N S T H E A R M Y. 91 

been prrsperous, the lower city must have been captured. 
But the gallant Montgomery had already fallen, and when 
the riflemen found themselves unsupported, their spirits 
began naturally to droop. Yet Morgan led them to the 
second Darrier, and urged on a desperate attack. But 
the snow had now rendered their guns almost useless, and 
to climb the wall in the face of a double row of bayonets 
were beyond their power. The garrison, encouraged by 
accounts from the other side of the city, left the barrier 
and assaulted them in overwhelming numbers, and after 
an obstinate resistance, Morgan and his corps were forced 
to lay down their arms and surrender themselves prisoners 
of war. 

The English could not be insensible to the merit of the 
man who by his bravery had so nearly retrieved the 
fortune of the American arms in this attack. While Mor- 
gan was a prisoner, the rank of colonel in the English 
service was offered to him, and many persuasive reasons 
were urged why he should accept it. But he always re- 
jected the temptation with scorn, and his conduct in 
this matter did much to increase the high estimate which 
Washington already placed upon him. Immediately on 
being exchanged, he was appointed a colonel by Congress. 
In the letters of the commander-in-chief recommending 
this measure, we find a particular notice of Morgan's con- 
duct in the assault upon Quebec, and of his patriotism 
after his capture. The rifle brigade which was placed 
under his command consisted of about five hundred men, 
and it was speedily employed in important service. 
Washington proved his confidence in Morgan by assign- 
ing him posts of danger, and relying upon his judgment 
for their defence. In one of his letters, dated I'^th June, 
1777, he directs him to take his stand at Van \echten's 
Bridge, and to harass the flank of the enemy whenever he 
was able, he recommends the use of spears to keep off 
cavalry, and suggests an Indian dress as one most appro- 



92 DANIEL MORGAN. 

priate and ijrmidable. A short time afterwards the corps 
distinguished itself by driving in the English piquets near 
Brunswick, and cutting down many of their number before 
they were compelled to retreat by the advance of the main 
body. 

But when Burgoyne advanced from the north, and the 
army under Gates prepared to meet him, Washington 
determined to send Morgan and his brigade to reinforce 
the northern army. His letter, dated August 16, 1777, 
speaks of the Indians accompanying the British force as 
being formidable to our troops, and he declares his inten- 
tion to send "Colonel Morgan to fight thern in their own 
way." 

Burgoyne had now taken the decisive step of crossing 
the Hudson, and found himself opposed by ihe army of 
Gates in front, while a broad river was in his rear, with 
its farther bank defended by vigilant parties of republi- 
cans. His situation became every day more critical. 
Knowing that safety could only be found in advancing, 
he offered battle to his enemy. In the first conflict at 
Stillwater, Morgan and his riflemen distinguished them- 
selves by their vigorous attack upon the Canadians and 
savages, who were defeated and driven in upon the main 
army. Though the English have claimed this battle as a 
victory, because they retained possession of the field, yet 
it was easy to see who had the real advantage. The royal 
army sought to advance, and the Americans prevented it: 
this was all they desired, — it secured the ruin of the 
enemy. In the subsequent contests upon the plains of 
Saratoga, Morgan and his corps were constantly in action, 
and English writers have themselves borne testimony to 
their efficiency. But afl;er the surrender of Burgoyne took 
place, Gates neglected to acknowledge the merit of his 
brave subordinate in his messages to Congress. There is 
but one satisfactory mode of accounting for this shameful 
omission. Ambition had urged General Gates to seek the 



BATTLE OF CAMDEN. 93 

chieL* command of the army, and while some were weak 
enough to countenance his view, Morgan steadily opposed 
him, and upheld the fame of Washington. This was 
enough to produce coolness between them, though it 
seems afterwards to have been forgotten, as we find Mor- 
gan willing to serve under Gates in the southern cam 
paign. 

In the year 1780, deUcate health had induced him to 
retire from active service, and return to his farm in Fred- 
erick county, Virginia. He was already suffering from 
rheumatism, probably contracted amid the ice and snow 
of Canada. When we remember his excessive exposure 
in that memorable expedition, we are prepared for his sub- 
sequent sufferings. At times he was so much afflicted thai 
he was incapable of motion, and was compelled to lie in 
bed until an interval of relief returned. But in his retire- 
ment he was remembered by all who had known him. 
Congress kept their eyes upon him, and offered him 
the rank of brigadier-general by brevet if he would again 
take his place in the southern army. Full of love to his 
country and of enthusiasm in her cause, Morgan again left 
his !teme to repair to the field. He did not join the army 
until after the disastrous battle of Camden, in which the 
ambitious hopes of Gates were drowned in the blood of 
his own countrymen. How far the presence of Morgan 
in the army would have operated to prevent this misfortune 
we cannot say, but it seems certain that his influence 
would have been exerted to delay the action. Though he 
was brave as a lion, and roused to fierce excitement in the 
hour of battle, yet he was prudent and sagacious, and was 
never known to hazard a contest in which he did not 
achieve success. 

In December, 1780, General Greene reached the Ame- 
rican camp, and assumed command of the southern army. 
He was attended by General Morgan at the head of a ooay 
of Virginia regulars and a few light troops. Greene's object 



94 n A N I F, L M O R G A N. 

was to prrvfint a jj^ciicrnl cnfj^ai^cmcnl in iho open field, foi 
which lie was ill-jm-jjarcd. lie resolved l)y jjnulenl means 
to rouse (he spirit of the country, already excited by 
the cruelty of Ihe IOn<j;lish ; to suppress the ineetiup^ of 
Tories, and to kee]) the enemy in check. Having taken 
post with the main body of his nrmy at Hick's Creek, he 
sent Mor<;an to the country horderinfj^on the l^acolet river, 
that he mi^ht or<;ani/e resistance to tiie enemy, and make 
a demonslration ai;ainst Niiu'ty-Six. Morj^-jin's whole 
command consisted of not more than six hundred men — 
three huiuh-ed infantry un(U'r Lieutenant-Colonel Howard, 
two hunched Virginia riflemen, and about one hundred 
gallant (h'agoons undi'r (/olonel Washington. 

When Cornwallis learned of his movements he di-s- 
patched his eelel)rated subordinate, Colotud Tarloton, to 
oppose him, and if possihh' to Ibree him into action. The 
nauie ol" 'I'arlelon had Ix'come proverbial through the 
country for his activity, his success, and his harsh mea- 
sures towards the patriots. He jiromised himself an easy 
victory over the wiigoner, and the Ibrce at his commaml 
seemed fidly to justify his expectations, llelijid light and 
legion infantry, fiisilecrs, three hun(h-ed ami fifty crti^ftlry, 
and a line battalion of the seventy-lirst reginu'ut, nuiking 
in all eleven hundred n\en, Ix'sidcs two field-pieces well 
served by artdlerists. l^ut he had now to encounter a 
general who had braved the snows of (/amden, had scaled 
the w;dls of (Quebec, and had faced the legions of Bur- 
goyne, and he soon Ibund that his re])utation was not un- 
founded. With consununate {jrudrnce Morgan retreated, 
until he reached the nuinorabh' Held of Cowpens, near 
one of the branches of Pacolet river. Here in the face 
of a superior eiu'my he determined to make a stand. He 
comnuinicated his design to his inferior oflicers, and with 
ready spirit they i)re|'ared the minds of their men for the 
expected cond)at. Morgan's arrangement was simple but 
iLdSterly, and showed a perfect knowledge of the character, 



D A T T L !•: O !• T II K C O W V K N 8. 95 

Doth of his own forc.f! Jirid of lliiil. of 'I'iirlcloii. Fii llu; 
opcu wood, wliicli formed llic (Jow|)(!iis, he establishi'd 
three lines; the first consisted of the militia, under Colonel 
l*ickens, a brave oflicer who hud heen recently releaNeJ 
from (;aj)tivify amori^ (hf! Krif^lisii. Tht; n(.'xt line em- 
braced all the ref^'ular infiiiilry and the Virf^inia riflemen, 
and was commanded hy Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. 
The third was f()rnied hy Washington's dragoons, and 
about fifty monnled niihtia, jirnied with swords and pistols. 
KnowinfT that the rnililia, though lull of conraf^e, were 
liable to |)anies, Morj^an directed that the first line, if over- 
powered, should (gradually retire and form on th(; ri{;ht 
and left of the second. When 'I'arleton found his foe 
drawn up in battle order, he rejoiced in tlu; hope (if a 
speedy victory, and thoii<^h his troops were sonutwhat 
fati^nitd i>y a rapid ni;irch, Ik; ^av(; orders for a charge, 
liefore his first line wasjx-rfcclly (brmi;d, he placed himself at 
its head iuid in person riislie(l to the onset. (Jolonel I'ickctns 
ordered his nii;n not to fire uniil tlnir adversaries were 
within fifty yards, and their fir(.' was delivered with 
great steadiness and with sev(;r(i elltjct. iJut so impetii- 
ous was the British charge th;it the militia gave way, and 
falling biick attempted to form oii the fhinks of the second 
litu;. 

At the head of his legion and fusileers, Tarleton pressed 
upon the regulars and riflemen, and notwithstanding their 
stern resistance they were borne down by numbe-rs, and 
forced to yield their ground. The iirilish regarded their 
victory as secured, and for a time at least the hearts of the 
repiddicans failed. Hut Morgan was everywhere encou- 
raging his men by his voice and presence. At this mo- 
ment, when their very success had caused some confusion 
among the fusileers, Washington at the head of his dra- 
goorjs jnade a furious charge, and dashing in among them 
overthrew them in a moment. His horses pass(;d over the 
British infantry like a storm, and the swords of his men 



96 DANIEL MORGA]S. 

hewed them down with resistless sway. In this happy 
crisis Howard succeeded in restoring the continentals to 
order, and Pickens rallied the militia and brought them 
again into line. Morgan gave the word to advance, and 
with presented bayonets the compact line bore down upon 
the royalists. Struck wil:h astonishment at finding them- 
selves thus assaulted, by men whom just before they looked 
upon as dcfeafed, the English troops wavered and then 
broke in disorder before the i^harge. In vain their officers 
endeavoured to rally them for a renewed stand. The 
spirits of the patriots were roused, and pressing forward 
with their bayonets they carried every thing before them. 
Infantry and cavalry were alike broken by their violence. 
Nearly two hundred of Tarleton's horse retreated in dis- 
may from the field, riding over their comrades and involv- 
ing them in confusion beyond remedy. The Americans 
gained the two field-pieces, and Colonel Howard having 
come up with a large body of infantry and summoned 
them to surrender, they laid down their arms on the field. 
The rout of the British was now complete : a more signal 
victory had never been achieved. Washington and his 
horse followed the flying foe during several hours, and 
Tarleton himself narrowly escaped falling into the hands 
of his determined pursuer. 

Such was the brilliant battle of the Cowpens, and beyond 
doubt the success of the Americans must be largely attri- 
buted to the prudent arrangement of General Morgan, and 
to the presence of his own brave spirit which he had suc- 
ceeded in infusing into his men. To form some idea of 
the importance of this victory, we must recall the loss of 
the enemy and the gain of the republicans. The British 
lost ten officers and more than one hundred privates 
killed, two hundred men wounded, twenty-nine officers 
and above five hundred privates prisoners. The Ameri- 
cans captured two field-pieces, two standards, eight hun- 
dred muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and more than 



HIS RETREAT, 97 

one hundred cavalry horses ; and they lost but twelve men 
killed and sixty wounded. 

But great as was the elTect of this battle in restoring the 
confidence of the Americans, it was hardly more import- 
ant to the future fame of Morgan than his subsequent re- 
treat. When Cornwallis learned of the total defeat of 
his favourite Tarleton, and of the destruction of his 
corps, he was deeply mortified, but instead of yielding to 
despondency he resolved to pursue the victor and wrest 
the fruits of triumph from his hands. Leaving behind him 
heavy baggage and every thing that could impede his 
progress, he pressed on, hoping to overtake his enemy 
and crush him at a blow ere he could cross the Catawba 
river. But the sagacious America^ had anticipated his 
movements and prepared to counteract his design. Send- 
ing his prisoners on before under a strong guard of militia, 
he manoeuvred in the rear with his regulars and riflemen 
whom he knew he could at any time push to a rapid 
march. Thus the vanguard and prisoners crossed the 
Catawba on the 29th of January, and Morgan still retreat- 
ing before Cornwallis, passed the river in safety on the 
evening of the same day. Hardly had he crossed, before 
the English army appeared on the other side, but during 
the night a tremendous fall of rain took place and so 
swelled the river that a passage became impracticable. 
Thus nature herself seemed to come to the aid of liberty; 
nor was this the only occasion in which she interposed in 
behalf of the patriot army. General Greene had feared 
for Morgan's safety, and believing that his own presence 
m this division of the army would contribute to its suc- 
cess in the retreat yet before it, he left the main body at 
Hick's Creek under General Huger, directing him to re- 
tire as rapidly as possible and form a junction with Mor- 
gan's division at Guilford Court-house in North Carolina. 
When Greene reached the camp of his subordinate on 
the 31st of January, the two generals immediately entere ' 

Vol. TI. 9 G 



98 DANIEL M OR G AN. 

into con.iultation as to the best route for tneir continued 
retreat. Morgan thought a road over the mountains the 
most eligible, as he believed his men accustomed to such 
localities, and he knew the roughness of the way would 
oppose many obstacles to a pursuing army. But Greene 
preferred the lower route, and when Morgan urged his 
wishes and declared that if the mountain road were not 
taken he would not be answerable for the consequences, 
Greene replied, " Neither will you be answerable, for I 
shall take the measure upon myself." Thus the dispute 
was ended and the march commenced. 

Cornwallis marched rapidly up the Catawba river to 
cross at McGowan's ford. Had a sufficient force, even of 
resolute militia, opposed him on the northern bank, it is 
not probable that his passage would have been effected 
without severe loss. But the Americans had unhappily 
taken post too far from the bank. A small number only 
disputed the point, and the British army forded in safety, 
though the water was generally up to the middle of their 
bodies. The American General Davidson was killed in 
the skirmish and the militia raj)i(lly retreated. Thus 
Greene was again in danger, and it seems that had he 
taken the mountain route recommended by Morgan, he 
might have been overwhelmed by his vigilant enemy. 
Reaching the banks of the Yadkin, he crossed on the 2d 
and 3d of February. The passage was made partly in 
flats and partly by fording, and all the boats were secured 
on the northern side. Cornwallis was so close on his rear 
that the light troops of both armies skirmished with each 
other, and the Virginia riflemen did good service. But 
in the night rain fell in torrents and the waters of the 
Yadkin rose suddenly to a height which rendered fording 
impossible. Again the British general was foiled. The 
American army was saved from a dangerous encounter, 
and the patriots, not without reason, ascribed their deliver- 
ance to divine intervention. 



GENERAL GREENE's LETTER. 99 

At Guilford Court-house, the two divisions of the array 
united, and a few days were allowed for refreshment after 
the late rapid marching. General Morgan here resigned 
his command and suggested Colonel Otho Williams as his 
su;ctssor, who was immediately appointed by Greene. 
It has been thought by many that Morgan's resignation 
was caused by his dispute with his superior, but we have 
the best reason to believe that this was not the case. 
ITiough firm and proud, he was generous and intelligent, 
and he could not have failed to perceive that Greene's 
measures had been prudent, and that the course he himself 
had preferred would have been highly dangerous. We 
have a much more satisfactory explanation of his wish for 
retirement. His old malady, the rheumatism, had returned 
upon him, and aggravated by his late exposure it had ren- 
dered him incapable of exertion. After crossing the 
Yadkin, it became so violent that he was unable to retain 
his command, and had he remained with the army it 
would have been only in the character of an invalid 
Under these circumstances it cannot be surprising that he 
should have sought repose at his home in Virginia. To 
prove that he remained on terms of friendly intercourse 
with General Greene, we have a letter from the latter to 
him, directed to Frederick county, and as it is highly 
characteristic of both officers, it shall here be inserted. 
It is dated 

" August 26, 1781. 

"Dear Morgan — Your letter of 24th of June arrived 
safe at head-quarters ; and your compliments to Williams, 
Washington, and Lee, have been properly distributed. 
Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to 
have had you with me. The people of this country adore 
you. Had you been with me a few weeks past you could 
have had it in your power to give the world the pleasure 
of reading a second Cowpens affair .... the expedition 



100 DANIEL MORGAN. 

ought to have realized us six hundred men, and the 
chances were more than fifty times as great in our favour 
as they were at Tarleton's defeat. Great generals are 
scarce : there are few Morgans to be found. The ladies 
loast you " 

No American of that day could have been insensible to 
the merit of the hero of the Cowpens. When a full report 
of the victory was made to Congress, it passed a vote 
of thanks to Morgan and his officers, and directed that a 
gold medal should be prepared for him, with a suitable 
device and inscription expressive of their sense of his 
value. The legislature of Virginia voted him a horse, 
and we have yet among our records the letter of Governor 
Nelson to Morgan informing him of this vote and urging 
him to select the best horse he could procure, as their 
design was to pay him a substantial compliment. 

We have reason to believe that he needed at this time 
such aid as the gratitude of his country could bestow. 
His farm had been neglected during his absence, and heavy 
taxes had done much to drink up his profits. His own 
health was so impaired that he could not give personal 
attention to his interests, and the fearful depreciation in 
the colonial paper money left him without resource from 
this means of supplying his wants. It is at this time that 
we find him addressing a letter to Governor JeflTerson of 
Virginia, in which, with touching and manly simplicity, ho 
sets forth his difficulties. It is dated from Frederick 
county, March 13, 1781. He begins by stating that he 
had learned that some officers had received par value for 
the paper money they held, and asks whether a similar 
indulgence may be extended to him. He speaks of his 
necessities with perfect freedom but without affectation. 
*< My expenses in the army and taxes at home have almost 
reduced me to poverty, and I fear will soon complete it '' 



morgan's letter to JEFFERSON. lOJ 

He declares that he had much difficulty in obtaining 
de' eflt clothes, and that this prevented him from appearing 
in person at the seat of government. His feeble health is 
also mentioned, but he says that it was then improving, 
and he hoped would soon be entirely restored. Yet amid 
80 many causes of depression, we find an unconquerable 
spirit of patriotism still in full exercise and casting its 
light even over his darkest hours. His letter concludes 
with some allusions to the army, and to << his old friend 
Arnold," with whom he had suffered in the Canada cam- 
paign, but who had now become a traitor to his country ; 
and the following closing words may show how deeply 
Morgan deplored the necessity which kept him from the 
field. "Nothing this side of heaven would give me 
greater happiness than to be able to lend my aid at this 
critical juncture."* It is to such a spirit that we owe our 
independence. A spirit which, amid sickness, poverty 
and nakedness, longed with insatiate desire for the very 
sei"vice which had been the occasion of its misfortunes. 
England contended in vain against a country in whose 
behalf such men were enlisted. 

Morgan's industry and prudence soon retrieved his 
domestic affairs from the confusion in which they were 
involved, but his country could not yet dispense with his 
services. When Cornwallis advanced into Virginia, he 
again joined the republican army, and General Lafay- 
ette bestowed upon him the command of the cavalry in 
his little force. He retired to his country-seat again after 
the siege of Yorktown, which virtually ended the revolu- 
tionary war. His place was called " Saratoga," from the 
name of the spot where some of his greenest laurels had 
been gathered. It was not far from the town of Win- 

• Tlie original letter has been examined by the writer, in the office of 
the secretary of state in Richmond, Virginia. It is believed that it haa 
never appeared in print. The handwriting is irregular but Hgibhi, and 
ibe few errors in orlhography are probably accidental. 

q* 



102 DANIEL MORGAN. 

Chester. Here his time was quietly spent in agricultural 
pursuits and in the care of his family. While young he 
had neglected the cultivation of his mind, but in middle 
life it is certain that he read much and became thoroughly 
acquainted with such history as might be gained from 
works in his own language. His letters at this time are 
well written, and give evidence of a strong and keen mind 
which neglected trifles and seized at once upon the 
marked points of his subject. 

In 1791, when the war against the western Indians was 
determined on, Washington was anxious that Morgan 
should have command of the army to proceed against 
them : but the pretensions of General St. Clair were so 
well sustained that the post was assigned to him. The 
unfortunate result is too well known. St. Clair was de- 
feated with immense loss. Had Morgan been in com- 
mand, it may be that the errors which caused the dis- 
aster would have been avoided, though these errors were 
not all on the part of the unfortunate commander. 

In 1794 the «' whiskey insurrection" of Pennsylvania 
took place, and an armed force w-as sent under Morgan to 
suppress it. No actual fighting occurred ; but the duty 
of quelling the insurgents was successfully performed. 
On returning to Frederick he became a candidate to re- 
present his district in Congress, and after a brief canvass 
was duly elected. He served two sessions, and though 
we know little of his career as a law-maker, we may pre- 
sume that his excellent sense and his practical knowledge 
made him valuable in his sphere. Feeble htalth com- 
pelled him to retire. He removed to Winchester, and 
after two years of constantly growing debility, he died on 
the 6th day of July, 1802. In one of the grave-yards of 
that town rest the mortal remains of this brave soldier 
of the Revolution. His monument is a simple slab of 
marble placed horizontally on a mound raised a few feet 
from the earth. The inscription deserves a record. 



HIS CHARACTER 103 

Major-General Daniel Morgan 

Departed this Life, July the &th, 1802, 

In the Sixty-seventh Year of his Jige. 

Palriotism and Valour were the Prominent Features in his Character^ 

And the Honourable Service 

He rendered to his Country, during the Revolutionary War^ 

Covered him with Glory, 

^nd will remain, in the Hearts of his Countrymen, 

A Perpetual Monument to his Memory. 

The widow of General Morgan survived him nearly 
fourteen years. Soon after his death, she removed to 
Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, where her oldest daughter re- 
sided. He left two daughters, both of whom married 
officers of the Revolution ; the eldest married General 
Presley Neville of Pittsburgh, and the younger Major 
Heard of New Jersey. 

Among the worthies of our glorious age Daniel Morgan 
must always claim a dignified rank. As a military man 
he was surpassed by few of his contemporaries. Though 
impetuous in his disposition, his cool judgment corrected 
the ardour of his temperament, and it has been remarked 
that he never risked a blow which was not successful. 
One who in modern times has contemplated his career 
with just admiration calls him "The hero of Quebec, of 
Saratoga, and the Cowpens : the bravest among the brave, 
and the Ney of the West." But it is not merely as a sol- 
dier that he merits our praise. He v.as of a kind and 
generous disposition, which ever impelled him to serve the 
needy and unfortunate. In early life, his habits were 
wild, perhaps vicious ; but as increasing years calmed the 
heat of youth, he deplored his past excesses, and warned 
others against them. He was never infected with the 
spirit of infidelity which so fatally pervaded our military 
officers during the closing years of the Revolutionary war. 
He was always a believer in Christianity, and some time 
})«'fore his death its truths affected him so stronrdy that he 



104 DANIEL MORGAN. 

united himself with the Preshyterian church of Winchester, 
then under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hill. To this minister 
he often spoke of the history of his past life, and on one 
occasion he related occurrences which may be described 
in the words of him who originally recorded them. 
<»• People thought that Daniel Morgan never prayed, but 
tliCV were mistaken. On the night they stormed Quebec, 
while waiting in the darkness and storm with his men 
paraded, for the word to advance, he felt unhappy : the 
enterprise appeared more than perilous : it seemed to him 
that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe 
from an encounter at such amazing disadvantage. He 
stepped aside, and kneeling by a munition of war, he most 
fervently prayed that the Lord (Jod Almighty would be his 
shield and defence, for nothing but an Almighty arm 
could protect him. He continued on his knees until the 
word passed along the line. He fully believed that his 
safety during that night of })eril was from the interposi- 
tion of God." And of the battle of Cowpens he said, that 
after " drawing up his army in three lines on the hill- 
side : contemplating the scene in the distance, the glitter 
of the enemy, he trembled for the fate of the day. Going 
to the woods in the rear, he kneeled and poured out a 
prayer to God for his army, for himself, and for his coun- 
try. With relieved sj)irits he r(>turned to the lines, and in 
his rough manner cheered them foi' the fight. As he passed 
along they answered him bravely. The terrible carnage 
that followed decided the victory. In a few moments 
Tarleton fled." 

Such was the testimony given by a brave man to the 
value of that reliance upon a divine Protector which con- 
stitutes an essential feature in every exalted character. 
In this respect Daniel Morgan was like the Father of his 
(country, who in the hour of danger was known to appeal 
often to the God of battles for aid in defending the cause 
of weakness and freedom against tyranny and power 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS MARION. 

When Louis XIV. of France yielded to the bigotry of 
S[)irit which had long possessed him, and recalled ihe 
edict of Nantz, suffering and dismay were immediately 
spread among the Protestant families of his immense 
kingdom. They were at once de{)rived of the protection 
granted to them under the reign of the heroic Henry 
Quatre, and were exposed to persecution from the papists, 
who would willingly have seen them exterminated. Ha- 
rassed even unlo death in their own country, thousands of 
Huguenots left the shores of France and took refuge in 
England and America. They fled from their homes when 
they could no longer worshij) Cjod as their consciences 
required, and hoped to find in the western continent the 
freedom which was denied them in the old world. Tht 
warm climate and generous soil of South Carolina tempted 
many of these wanderers to her borders ; and the Hug^rs, 
the Tra])iers, the Ravenels, and Pri61eaus, still found in 
her bosom, attest the truly noble origin of many of her 
families. 

Among the Huguenots who left France in 1685, were 
Gabriel Marion and Louise, his wife, who, after reaching 
the shores of South Carolina, retired into the country and 
purchased a small farm on a creek not far from the city of 
Charleston. Here, peaceful and contented, they lived for 
many years. Their oldest son was called Gabriel, after 
his father. He married Charlotte Cordes, and became the 
farther of seven children, five sons and two daughters. 
Francis Marion, whose name has since become so justiv 
renowned, was the youngest of this family. He was bori 
at Winyah, near Georgetown, in South Carolina, in 1732 — 

105 



J 06 K R A N C I S M A R I N. 

the same year witnessed the birth of George Washington in 
Virginia. No admirer of either will attempt to compare 
these two men. Their spheres of action were different, 
and each in his own sphere was the friend, almost the 
saviour of his country. If Washington, at the head of 
the American armies, was always prudent yet always 
courageous, often successful and finally triumphant, Marion 
leading his brigade amid the forests and swamps of Ca- 
rolina, was the man who in a season of gloom and de- 
spondency restored the fortunes of the south, and prepared 
the way for her ultimate deliverance from British control. 

The infancy of the famous partisan promised little of his 
future distinction. He was so small in body as to excite 
surprise and serious feais among his relatives, and until 
his twelfth year he remained feeble in physical constitution. 
But at this time a change took place. He began to delight 
in active sports and in* exercise which braced his muscles 
and increased his strength. Even when in the vigour of 
manhood he was of small stature, but he gradually ac- 
quired a body uniting remarkable activity with a hardness 
and power of endurance possessed by few men of his time. 

When about fifteen years of age, he yielded to his 
natural love of enterprise, and went to sea in a small 
schooner employed in the West India trade. While on 
the voyage an accident, supposed to have been the stroke 
of a whale, tore out a plank from the bottom of the vessel, 
and notwithstanding the exertions of the crew at the 
pumps, she leaked so rapidly that she foundered im- 
mediately after her people had pushed from her side in 
the jolly-boat. So sudden was the disaster that they had 
not saved a particle either of food or water, and were 
forced to feed upon a small dog which swam to them from 
the unfortunate bark just before she sank. Upon the 
ocean an 1 under a burning sun, they rema jied for six days, 
uff'ering tortures of famine and thirst which caused the 
death of four of the party, ere they were relie\ed by a 



HIS INFANCY AND YOUTH. 107 

vessel which at length happily hove in sight. But thougn 
strong men died the feeble Marion survived, and was re- 
stored to his country to serve her in the seasons of danger 
that v/ere approaching. 

He seems to have felt no longer a wish to follow a life 
of sea service. For thirteen years he cultivated the soil, 
and during this time he gained the esteem of all who 
knew him by his unobtrusive virtues. Few advantages 
of education were afforded to him, and it is probable that 
the modest attainments to be gained in a grammar school 
were the best he enjoyed. Yet this is a fact which we 
may not deplore. America then needed her statesmen 
and her soldiers, and she found them ready. The first 
proved that they possessed learning equal to the crisis, 
and if the latter knew little of Greek and Latin, or of the 
abstruse sciences, they proved that they had knowledge 
much more important ; they knew how to wield the sword, 
to suffer and to die in the cause of iheir country. Marion 
remained on his farm until the year 1761, when he was 
first called to enlist in the armies of his state against a 
dangerous foe. 

The Cherokee Indians were numerous and brave. On 
the frontiers of Carolina they had native settlements, and 
frequent inroads upon the whites evinced their strength 
and hostility. 

In the campaign of 1760, Colonel Montgomery, at the 
head of nearly two thousand men composed of provincials 
and British regulars, had attacked their stronghold in a 
mountain pass near the town of Etchoee, and after a 
bloody combat had forced the savages to sue for peace. 
In this campaign, it is probable that Marion took part as 
a volunteer, though we have no certain evidence either of 
his presence or of his deeds. But in 1761 the Cherokees 
again commenced their incursions, and conducted them 
with so much treachery and violence, that it was adjudged 
necessary tc strike a blow which should prostrate their 



108 FRANCIS MARION. 

strenpfth, and render them impotent for the future. Twelve 
hundred regulars under Colonel Grant were soon in the 
field ; and to these were added a few friendly Indians, 
and a complete regiment of provincial troops under Colo- 
nel Middleton. Marion now offered himself as a volun- 
teer to the governor, and so highly was he alread} 
esteemed, that his excellency appointed him a lieutenant 
of the provincial regiment, and gave him a place under 
the command of the gallant Captain Moultrie. On the 
7th of June, the army, consisting of twenty-six hundred 
Tien, marched from Fort Prince George against the sa- 
vages. Taught by past experience, the Indians selected 
the mountain defile near Etchoee, where they had pre- 
viously made a stand, and they prepared to defend it with 
greater obstinacy than before. The pass through the 
mountain was narrow and dangerous ; rugged heights 
rose abruptly on either side, and forest trees descending 
even to the path, cast a gloomy shade over the scene, and 
afforded shelter to the savage enemy. It required a 
heart of no ordinary firmness to be willing to lead in this 
attack : but Marion volunteered for the forlorn hope. 
Already his dauntless courage began to appear, and the 
foundation was laid for that fame which will endure with 
the records of America. 

At the head of thirty men, he advanced up the hill and 
entered the defile, every part of which was full of danger. 
Hardly were they within the gorge before a terrible war- 
whoop was heard, and a sheet of fire from savage rifles 
illumined the forest. The discharge was most deadly. 
Twenty-one men fell to the ground ; but Marion was un- 
hurt. The rapid advance of the next detachment saved 
the survivors, who fell back and united with their com- 
panions. The battle now became general ; the regulars 
remained in order and poured continuous volleys of mus- 
ketry into the wood ; the provincials resorted to their 
rifles, and w^ith unerring aim brought down 'he Indians as 



BURNING OF EICHOEE. 109 

they appeared on each side of the pass. The contest was 
close and bloody ; the regulars at length resorting to the 
bayonet and driving the savages before them. From 
eight o'clock until two, the battle continued ; but tht 
whites achieved a signal victory. One hundred and three 
natives were slain ere they yielded the ground, and loft a 
free passage to Grant and his army. 

The Cherokee town of Etchoee was immediately re- 
duced to ashes, and the whites then proceeded to burn 
their wigwams, and lay waste their country. The fields 
in which the corn was already tasselled and ripening for 
harvest, were overrun and utterly ruined. Severity may 
have been necessary in order to break the spirit of the 
savages ; but we cannot regard such devastation without 
profound sorrow. On this point Marion presents himself 
to us in an interesting light, and his own words shall be 
used to prove that to the courage and the firmness of the 
soldier, he united the tender feelings of a true philanthro- 
pist : — " I saw," he says, " everywhere around, the foot- 
steps of the little Indian children where they had lately 
played under the shade of this rustling corn. No doubt 
they had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, 
and gladdened when they thought of their abundant cakes 
for the coming winter. When we are gone, thought I, 
they will return, and peeping through the weeds with 
tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin poured over their 
homes and happy fields, where they had so often played. 
*Who did this.'" they will ask their mothers ; < The white peo- 
ple did it,' the mothers reply ; ' the Christians did it.' "* 

After this war of devastation, the army returned and 
was disbanded. They had encountered severe toil and 
bloody conflict ; but their object was accomplished. The 
Cherokees were effectually subdued, and even in the sub- 
sequent war with England they gave the Americans but 
little annoyance. Marion left his regiment and returned 
* Marion's leUer in Weems, 25 ; Siinins's Marion, 52. 

Vol. II. 10 



110 FRANCIS MARION. 

to the lepive of rural life. For some years his pursuits 
were strictly pacific, and his course was marked by much 
that was gentle and amiable. His gun was sometimes 
resorted to for the amusement of an idle hour, and his 
angling-rod was his companion upon the streams which 
bordered his plantation. In this interval, those who knew 
him best, have borne testimony to his mild and unassum- 
ing character. 

In 1775 commenced the great struggle between the 
mother-country and her American colonies which was to 
result in their independence. In this year we find Marion 
elected, and returned as a member of the provincial Con- 
gress of South Carolina from the district of St. John's, 
Berkeley county. Subjects of high moment were to be 
considered by this Congress, nor do we find them reluc- 
tant in the task. They solemnly pledged the people of 
this state to the principles of the Revolution, and adopt- 
ing the American Bill of Rights, they recommended that 
all persons should subscribe an agreement to import no 
goods, wares or merchandise from England. Nor did 
they stop here : under their sanction the public armory 
at Charleston was broken open, and eight hundred mus- 
kets, two hundred cutlasses, cartouches, flints, , matches, 
and other military munitions were withdrawn. A party 
commissioned by the Congress seized upon the public 
powder at Hobeau ; another party possessed itself of the 
arms in Cochran's magazine. Committees of safety and 
correspondence were established through the state, and 
every preparation was made for the approaching struggle. 
In these vigorous parliamentary proceedings, it is not to 
be supposed that Marion remained an idle spectator ; but 
as the time drew near when blood was actually to flow in 
conflict, he could no longer bear the mere duties of a 
lawmaker. He felt that, with his own hand, he must draw 
the sword in behalf of his country. 

The Assembly having passed a law for raising two 



REVOLUTIONARY WAR. Ill 

regimenl.s of infantry, and four hundred and fifty horse, 
Marion applied for military duty, and he was immediately 
appointed a captain in the second regiment under his 
former superior, Colonel Moultrie. In company with his 
devoted friend Captain Peter Horry, he set forth on a 
recruiting excursion, and notwithstanding the want of 
money and the dangerous character of the service, they 
soon raised two fine companies of sixty men each. From 
the beginning of his career Marion was successful in in- 
spiring his followers with that confidence in their leader 
which is all-important in the hour of danger. His skill 
as a drilling officer was conspicuous, and in a short time 
the raw materials he had collected began to assume a bold 
and soldier-like aspect, which drew upon them the notice 
of the superior officers. In the mean time, the enemy 
was not idle. Lord William Campbell, the English go- 
vernor, was yet in Charleston, organizing resistance to 
the provincials ; two British ships lay opposite Sullivan's 
Island ; Fort Johnson, on another isle in the outlet, was 
in possession of the king's troops, and many Tories were 
gathering in various parts of the state to paralyze the ener- 
gies of the patriots. The first duty in which Marion en- 
gaged was an attack on Fort Johnson. Colonel Moul- 
trie led a strong detachment against it, but on gaining the 
fort they encountered no resistance. The guns had been 
dismounted ; the garrison withdrawn to the ships ; and 
thus, a gunner and three men only fell into the hands of 
the Americans. 

During some time after this capture, matters affecting 
Charleston remained undecided. The English governor 
retired to the fleet, believing that it would be no longer 
safe to remain among the people he had been sent to rule. 
Marion was constantly engaged in drilling the men of his 
regiment, and he was intrusted with several commands, 
which proved the confidence felt in his ability and faith- 
fulness. Soon after his appointment as major was con- 



112 FRANCIS MARION. 

ferred, Colonel Moultrie with the second regiment was 
ordered to Sullivan's island, to build the fort which was 
afterwards to be the scene of one of the most brilliant 
actions of the revolutionary war. The account of the 
defence of this fort more properly belongs to the life of the 
heroic Moultrie, in which it will be found at length. 
The bombardment took place on the 20th day of June, 
1776, and was a total failure. It is related that five 
thousand pounds of powder were all the garrison pos- 
sessed at the commencement of the action. This supply 
was used with the utmost economy, but at length so nearly 
was it exhausted that long intervals occurred between the 
discharges from the fort. The English began to hope for 
victory, but in this crisis Major Marion proceeded with a 
small party to the schooner Defence, lying in a creek above 
them, and obtained a supply which was used until five 
hundred pounds were received from the city. With this 
the fire was re-opened, and the British fleet being already 
almost dismantled hastened to draw off to a place of safety. 
A well preserved tradition has told us of the effect produced 
by the last shot fired from the American fort. The gun 
was aimed by Marion himself, and with his own hand the 
match was applied. The ball entered the cabin windows 
of the Bristol, (one of the fifty gun ships,) and killed two 
young officers who had just retired from the bloody scenes 
of the gun deck to take refreshment below ; then ranging 
forward the same messenger of death passed through tlie 
steerage, striking down three seamen on its way, and 
finally bursting through the forecastle it fell into the sea. 
There is little reason to doubt the truth of this event, and 
it might well be considered as ominous of the fatal power 
of Marion in his subsequent encounters with the Euglish. 
The noble defence of Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's island 
saved Charleston, and secured to South Carolina long ex- 
emption from the horrors of war. For three years no 
military movement of much importance occurred. Gene- 



SIEGE OF SAVANNAH. 113 

ral Lincoln was in command of the southern army, and 
contented himself with watching the motions of Generai 
Prevost, the British chief, who kept his troops concentrated 
m or near Savannah. Marion continued with the army, 
though during this time his active spirit had few opportn- 
nitic'S for full exercise. But in September, 1779, the 
French Count D'Estaing, with a large fleet, appeared off 
Savannah, and summoned the English garrison to sur- 
render. Had the attack been immediately urged, the cap- 
ture of the place was almost inevitable, for the defences 
were so imperfect that resistance would have been mad- 
ness. But D'Estaing granted the British commander 
twenty-four hours to consider, and this interval was vigor- 
ously employed in completing the fortifications and mount- 
ing cannon. When Marion heard of this imprudent de- 
lay, he was unable to suppress his amazement. His words 
have been preserved. " What," he exclaimed, « first 
allow an enemy to entrench and then fight him ! See the 
destruction brought upon the British at Bunker Hill — yet 
our troops there were only militia — raw, half-armed clod- 
hoppers, and not a mortar, nor carronade, nor even a swivel 
— but only their ducking guns !" 

The fears of Marion were more than realized. When 
the American army, under General Lincoln, joined the 
French, a combined attack upon the works around Savan- 
nah was prepared. But the foe was now ready to receive 
them. Two columns, one of French, the other American, 
advanced gallantly to the attack. Storms of grape-shot 
poured upon them as they approached, and after losing 
nearly half their numbers they were driven back, even 
from the very foot of the entrenchments. In this contest 
the Polish hero. Count Pulaski, was slain, and Sergeant 
Jasper fell, bearing, even to his last and mortal wound, 
the standard committed to him after the battle at Fort 
Moultrie, Marion was in the hottest of the fight, but es- 
caped with)ut injury. 



JO* 



H 



114 FRANCIS MARION. 

The disaster of the Americans before the worlcs of Sa- 
vannah was soon followed by a more signal misfortune. 
\n February, 1780, a large British armament and military 
force under the commander in chief, Sir Henry Clinton, 
invested Charleston and pressed the siege with cautious 
vigour. Here General Lincoln, with the flower of the 
southern American army, was surrounded, and after a pro- 
tracted defence he w^as forced to surrender the city, and 
at the same time to give up his troops as prisoners of war. 
It is with pleasure that we find Marion escaping this un- 
happy fate, and the event which saved him well merits our 
notice. In Tradd street in Charleston, he had joined a 
number of friends at a dinner party, and their host, with 
the mistaken hospitality but too common in those days, 
had locked his outer doors in order that not one of his 
guests might be found sober at one o'clock in the morning. 
But Marion though convivial in his feelings was temperate 
in his habits, and to avoid the debauch, he raised a window 
in the second story and sprang out into the street. The 
fall fractured his ancle, and so severe was the injury that 
for several months he was not restored to health. Finding 
him unable to do duty, General Lincoln included him in 
the order for removing the impotent from the city, and 
he w^as conveyed to his plantation in St. John's parish. 
Here he remained until he was sufficiently recovered to 
resume the saddle. 

Immediately after the surrender of Charleston, the British 
commenced that series of sanguinary measures which con- 
verted the war in the south into something like a strife 
of extermination. Marauding parties of dragoons under 
Tarleton, Wemyss, and other partisan officers, scoured the 
country and spread devastation on every side. Growing 
crops w^ere destroyed, houses were burned, fences weie 
torn down, men were hanged or cruelly beaten, w'omen 
were insulted, and every measure of violence was adopted 
that w^as deemed necessary to break the spirit of the 



DEFEAT OF GATES, 115 

country. Tht Tories began to triumph, and enticed by a 
proclamation of Cornwallis, many who had been patriots 
renounced the cause of their country and accepted pro- 
tection under the royal standard. This was a season of 
hea'/y gloom to the lovers of America. Even the brave 
Horry was downcast, and expressed his despondency to 
his friend. But Marion assumed a cheerful aspect, and 
with remarkable precision pointed out the effect of the 
British measures. He well knew that kindness only would 
disarm the country, and though his heart bled for the suf- 
ferings that were daily inflicted, yet he rejoiced in their 
existence, believing them to be the only means of keeping 
alive the spirit of resistance to English rule. Had the 
enemy been capable of a humane and generous policy, 
they might have conciliated the people and perhaps arrayed 
them in opposition to freedom : but their cruelties acted 
like severe medicines, bitter and ungrateful at the time, 
but afterwards productive of the happiest results. 

Marion and Horry travelled together to meet the north- 
ern army under Baron De Kalb. When General Gates 
joined them and assumed the command, preparations were 
made for battle, contrary to the advice of the brave De 
Kalb and to the opinion of Marion, who knew more of 
the prospect for success than any other man. Again we are 
compelled to record the overthrow of the patriot army. At 
Camden the Americans sustained a defeat in some respects 
more disastrous than any other they ever met, and among 
their other misfortunes none perhaps was heavier than the 
death of the hero who had crossed the Atlantic to fiffht 
their battles. Over the grave of De Kalb, Washington 
himself was afterwards heard to utter with a sigh these 
memorable words, " There lies the brave De Kalb ; the 
generous stranger who came from a distant land to water 
with his blood the tree of our liberty. Would to God he 
had lived to share with us its fruits." In contemplating 
these misfortunes it is at least consoling to reflect that 



116 FRANCIS MARION. 

Marun again escaped death or captivity. He was not m 
the bittJe, having been sent by General Gates to superin- 
tend he destruction of boats on the Santee river, by which 
course the infatuated American hoped to prevent the es- 
cape of Lord Cornwallis and the English army. 

All now seemed lost in South Carolina. Charleston was 
taken and Gates had been totally defeated. Nothing like 
an organized force opposed the enemy. Their foraging 
parties swept through the country and insulted the inhabit- 
ants without hazard. The hopes of the most sanguine 
patriots seemed about to expire. Darkness and gloom were 
on every side. It was at this crisis that the true value of 
Francis Marion began to appear; and if the man deserves 
more admiration who struggles against the current of ad- 
versity than he who sails with a prosperous wind, we 
cannot refuse to admire the course now pursued by the 
partisan of South Carolina. 

He obeyed a summons from a few brave men in the 
neighbourhood of Williamsburg, who after accepting Bri- 
tish protection had been required by Cornwallis to take 
up arms against their country. Outraged by this breach 
of faith, they threw off the fetters they had assumed, and 
invited Marion to come and lead them in the warfare they 
intended to wage against the enemy. About the 12th of 
August, 1780, four days after the defeat of Gates, he 
joined the little band at Linch's Creek, and immediately 
commenced drilling them for service. He now held a 
commission as general from Governor Rutledge of South 
Carolina, and the command of that part of the state iu 
which he intended to act was committed to his hands. 

Not more than thirty horsemen were at first assembled, but 
after the arrival of their commander the number increased. 
"Marion's brigade" was formed, and it was soon renowned 
throughout the country. Tories feared it and patriots 
heard of its deeds with delight. To join Marion, to lie 
one of Marion's mt n, was esteemed the highest privilege, to 



Marion's brigade. 117 

which a yo jng man could aspire, who wished to serve liis 
country. These troopers were nnen admirably adapted to 
the duty they assumed. Active and hardy in body, they 
were capable of enduring fatigue and exposure without a 
murmur; they rode well, and accustomed their horses to 
the privations they themselves encountered. They used 
the rifle with unerring skill : swords were at first wanting, 
but they stripped all the saw-mills of the neighbourhood, 
and the saws were converted by rude blacksmiths into 
sabres for the men : and we are informed by a contempo- 
rary that their rude swords were so efficient that a strong 
trooper never failed to cut down an adversary at a single 
blow. 

With such a force Marion commenced the forest war- 
fare which was his only hope. It would have been mad- 
ness to expose himself to a stroke in the open field : the 
lives of his men were too precious to be hazarded even in 
equal combat. He took refuge in the swamps and fast 
nesses known only to himself and his followers, and lying 
secure when a superior enemy was within a mile of his 
position, he would sally out in the night or the day, and 
quick as lightning would strike a blow which never failed 
to be successful. His enemies were filled with amaze- 
ment and alarm. No vigilance could guard against his 
attacks, no persevering efforts could force him to a conflict 
when the chances of war were against him. At one time 
he would appear at one point, and after sweeping a troop 
of Tories before him and securing their munitions, in an 
incredibly short period, he would strike another point far 
distant from the first. He succeeded in infusing his own 
quiet, cautious, but determined spirit into his men, and 
though many other regiments performed deeds more bril- 
liant, we know no body of men to whom America is more 
indebted for her liberty than to the brigade of Francis 
Marion. 

Imniediately aftei taking command of his troopers, he 



lis F R A N C I S M A R I O N. 

advanced silently upon the s.]uailron of Major Gainey, an 
English partisan oilioor oi" coiisiiU'rable ro[uitation, and 
before lus approadi was known {\\c whole party were his 
prisoners. Kmboldened by this success and by tlie sur- 
prise it produced, he next attempted a more important 
scheme. A party of about ninety British soldiers passed 
ne;\r Nelson's ferry, comlucting at least two hundreil 
American prisoners to Charleston. These captives were 
from the ill-fated field of Camden. Marion and his band 
passed the ferry about an hour afier sunset, and concealing 
themselves on the other side awaited the approach of the 
detachment. After crossing, the English sought the first 
public-house they could find, in which to pass the night, 
and dreaming not of danger, they spent many hours in 
drinking and merriment, and finally fell asleep in a spacious 
arbour in front of the house, leaving drowsy sentinels to 
guard their slumbers. In a moment Marion was upon 
ti»em, the sentinels were stricken down and several of the 
dKachment uere slain before they knew who were their 
enemies. Starting from sleep they found tliemselves in- 
vaded by bold troopers, who dashed among them with their 
horses and with loud shouts calleil them to surrender. 
The English asked for quarter, and not until they were 
disarmed and their prisoners were all released did they 
discover how insignificant was the enemy who hail van- 
quished them. 

This exploit was soon followed by otliers of an equally 
daring character. Hearing that a party of Tories under 
Captain Burfitld were assembling on the Pedee river, the 
American put his men in motion, and after a rapid ride 
of forty miles came upon the enemy at three o'clock in 
the morning. So startling was the assault, that the Tories 
broke and dispersed widiout firing a single shot ! Of 
forty-nine composing their number, thirty were either killed 
or fell into the hands of the patriots. From these two 
parties, Marion obtained a welcome supply of ammnni- 



D A n I N o f: X P L O I T s. 



119 



tion, cartoiich-hoxfts, muskets and horses, which »,'nabK'(l 
bun materially to increase his own strength. 

The English ofhcers seem to have been great y aston- 
ished at their defeats. While the whole country was ap- 
parently in their power, tliey found an American partisan 
leading his troops through the very heart of the province, 
dealing rapid and disabling blows upon his enemies, alarm- 
ing the Tories and keeping alive the spirit of resistance. 
They determined to follow him with an overwhelming 
force, and to crush him at once, but they found his 
prudence equal to his courage. With more than two hun- 
dred British regulars advancing in front and aboiit five 
hundred Tories in his rear, Marion commenced a retreat 
which was c/;nducted with consummate skill and success. 
His practice was to dismiss many of his men Uj their 
houses, receiving from each his word of honour that he 
would return when summoned, and to the credit of these 
suffering patriots be it known that tlieir promises in this 
respect were never violated. At the head of a small band, 
generally of about sixty men, Marion then plunged into 
the swainj;s, and concealing each trace of his passage, he 
could lie concealed until the immediate danger was over. 
The privation he encountered in this life has been de- 
scribed to us by eye-witnesses, and it may be well here to 
give the words of Judge James, who when a boy of six- 
teen years of age dined with Marion in one of his forest 
saloons: — "The dinner was set before the company by 
the general's servant, Oscar, partly on a pine log and 
partly on the ground. It consisted of lean beef without 
salt, and sweet potatoes. The author had left a small pot 
of boiled hominy in his camp and requested leave of his 
host to send for it, and the proposal was gladly acquiesced 
in. The hominy had salt in it, and proved, tliough eaten 

out of the pot, a most acceptable repa.st We had 

notliing to drink but bad water, and all the company aj)' 
peeured to be rather grave." 



120 FRANCIS MARION. 

That the comi)any should be grave under such circum- 
stances can hardly be surprising, but under a leader like 
Marion they were not allowed long to indulge in despond- 
ency. Finding that the enemy liad abandoned the pur- 
suit, he again turned his troops south, and leaving North 
Carolina advanced cautiously into his own province. Ma- 
jor Wemyss, who had commanded the British regulars, 
had retired to Georgetown, but a large body of Tories had 
taken post at Shepherd's Ferry on the Black Mingo river. 
Against this traitor class of foes Marion was always sig- 
nally active, for he well knew their influence in depressing 
the spirit of liberty in the country. About a mile below Shep- 
herd's Ferry, a long bridge of planks crossed the Black 
Mingo, and this was the only avenue open to Marion. As 
his troopers entered upon the bridge, the trampling of their 
horses was so loud as to arouse the enemy, and immedi- 
ately an alarm gun was heard from their camp. No time 
was now to be lost : Marion gave the word to charge, and 
the whole troop passed the bridge at a sweeping gallop. 
The Tories were there double in number, and they had 
drawn up their body on a piece of rising ground near the 
ferry. A heavy fire received the patriots as they advanced, 
and for a time tlaeir leading corps faltered, but when the 
whole number came into action their onset was irresisti- 
ble. After losing their commander, the Tories left their 
ranks and tied in the utmost disorder. Nearly two-tiiirds 
of their number were either killed or wounded, and many 
were made prisoners. Had they not been alarmed by 
the noise at the bridge, it is probable they would all have 
fallen into the hands of the Americans. It is said that after 
this conflict Marion never crossed a bridge at night, with- 
out spreading blankets upon it to deaden the sound. He 
generally preferred to cross at a ford, where there would 
be no risk of giving a premature alarm. 

After giving to his men a season of rest and recreation, 
among the people of the state who were friendly to their 



CORN WAL LIS AND MARION. 121 

cause, he called them again to his side and prepared for 
active proceedings. His vigilant scouts informed him that 
Colonel Tyncs was raising a body of Tories at Tarcote in 
the forks of Black River, and that he had brought from 
Charleston a full supply of saddles and bridles, blankets, 
pistols and broad-swords, powder and ball for his new 
levies. These articles were precisely what Marion's men 
wanted, and they were stimulated to unwonted energy by 
the hope of accomplishing two objects — the defeat of the 
Tories and the seizure of their munitions. Tynes sus- 
pected no danger and used but little precaution. At mid- 
night Marion and his troops approached and found their 
enerny. Some were asleep, some were lying on the 
ground in careless conversation, many were at cards, and 
the very words they uttered were heard by the Americans 
as they advanced. Instantly the attack was made, and 
the Tories took to flight, and all who escaped concealed 
themselves in the swamps bordering on the Black River. 
Few were killed, but Colonel Tynes and many of his men, 
together with all the military wealth he had brought out 
of Charleston, fell into the hands of the victors. Marion 
did not lose a single man. 

In this succession of gallant deeds, the American 
proved his ability and thoroughly established his reputa- 
<ion. The British generals had hoped that the country 
might be considered as conquered, but while such a foe 
was among them they felt that they had little cause for 
triumph. We have a letter from Cornwallis himself, in 
which, while doing great injustice to Marion, he yet bears 
testimony to his success and his influence. He says, 
" Colonel Marion had so wrought on the minds of the 
people, partly by the terror of his threats and cruelly ol 
his punishments, and partly by the promise of plunder, 
that there was scarcely an inhabitant between the Santee 
and Pedee that was not in arms against us. Some par- 
ties had even crossed the Santee., and carried terror to the 

Vol. II. 11 



122 FRANCIS MARION. 

gates of Charleston." Those wlio knew Marion person- 
ally, and who have given skelehes of his life, have refuted 
the charge of cruelty here brought against him. lie was 
proverbially mild and humane in his disposition ; he often 
saved the lives of Tories whom his men would have 
hanged in retaliation for similar outrages inilieted upoD 
the patriots ; even though his own nephew, Gabriel Marion, 
was murdered, while asking for quarter, when after- 
wards the supposed murderer was shot by one of his 
troopers, he sternly censured the ileeti, and would have 
punished the perpetrator eould he have been deteeted. The 
charge of cruelly con\es with ill grace from Coruwallis, whose 
memory even now is stained with the blood of hundreds of 
Anii'ricans, who, while in the condition of helpless prison- 
ers, were put to death under his express commands! 

Renewed efforts were made to crush this ilangerous 
foe. It is said that Colonel Tarleton left the room to 
which he had been confined by sickness in Charleston, 
anil placed himself at the head of his dragoons with the 
ftrm resolve not to yiekl the pursuit until he had secured 
the enemy. Marion watched his course, and adoptetl his 
own with ceaseless caution. At the plantation of General 
Richardson, the English parlisan believed his triumph 
complete. Marion was at a wood-yard within a mile of 
him ; but warned by the tlames of the general's house 
that his })ursuer was near, he took to flight, and when 
Tarleton arrived he was filled with rage on linding that 
the prize was gone. Through forests and swamps, thorny 
hedges, and tangled undergrowtli, he followed the retreat- 
ing troops, but never came near enough to strike a blow. 
At length, on arriving at Benbovv's ferry on Black Rivei, 
Marion determined to make a stand. The ferry was 
rapid and dangerous, and behind him was Ox Swamp, 
through which only three passes were practicjible. His 
men were perfectly ftimiliar with the localities, and having 
tnrown up a breastwork of logs, and made other defe/ices, 



I 



TAR J> ETON BAFFLED. 123 

they prepared their rifles for the English dragoons. Had 
Tarleton attempted to carry their position, he would, in 
the language of Jufige James, "have exposed his force to 
such sharp-shfxjting as he had not yet experienced, and 
that in a place where he could not have acted wiih either 
his artillerj' or cavalry." But he prudently turned back^ 
he has himself informed us that his retreat was caused by 
an order brought by express from Cornwallis ; but a well- 
founded suspicion may be indulged, that he had painfj] 
doubts as to the results of a conflict under these circum- 
stances. At the risk of violating tlie rules of good taste, 
we will give his own words, stated to have been uttered on 
reaching the borders of Ox Swamp. " Come, boys," he 
said, " let us go back. We will soon find the game cock;* 
but as for this swamp fox the devil himself could not 
catch him." The devil would certainly have been a very 
appropriate comrade for Colonel Tarleton in his partisan 
♦jxcursions through the Carolinas. 

In addition to the successes of Marion, about this time 
occurred two battles in which the cause of freedom tri- 
umphed. General Sumter, on the banks of Tyger river, 
defeated a superior force of British troops, killing ninety- 
':wo, and wounding one hundred, while only three Ame- 
ricans were slain, and three wounded. But among the 
latter was Sumter himself, who was long disabled by a 
severe wound in the breast. At King's Mountain the 
British under Major Ferguson were totally defeated, and 
the hopes of America began again to rise. Marion planned 
an attack upon Georgetown which had long been held by 
a British garrison; but in consequence of mismanagement 
on the part of his subordinates, the aitem2:t failed entirely. 
He now retired to his favourite retreat on Snow's Island, 
which lay at the point where Lynch's Creek and tlie 
Pedee River unite. Here the camp of the partisan was 



• General Sumter. 



124 FRANCIS MARION. 

regularly established, and it was a spot admirably suited 
to his purposes. Running water enclosed it on all sides, 
and ihe current of Lynch's Creek was almost always in- 
cumbered by drifting logs and timber. Deep swamps 
formed the borders of the island, and in the cane-brakes 
great quantities of game and live-stock might generally 
be found. The middle part was more elevated, and covered 
with tall forest trees ; here Marion established his strong 
hold, and increased the natural defences of the island by 
diligent labour. From this retreat he could sally out in 
any direction, and by sudden strokes astonish the Tories 
who were gathering in aid of the British power. 

While lying at Snow's Island a mutinous spirit was 
shown by one of his own officers, but it was promptly 
suppressed by the decision of Marion. Another incident 
occurred which has often been recounted, and which has 
been regarded as worthy to furnish the subject for a his- 
torical painting. An exchange of prisoners having been 
agreed upon, a young English officer was sent from George- 
town to complete the arrangement with Marion. On 
arriving near the camp, he was carefully blindfolded, and 
was thus conducted into the presence of the American 
general. When the bandage was removed, he saw before 
him a scene for which he was not prepared. Lofty trees 
surrounded him, casting a sombre shade over all objects 
beneath them : under these were lying in listless groups 
the men belonging to the renowned partisan brigade. 
Active forms and limbs, giving promise of great muscular 
power, were clad in rude costumes which had already 
seen much service. Rifles and sabres were seen among 
the trees, and horses were around ready for instantaneous 
motion. Before him stood Marion himself, small in 
stature, slight in person, dark and sw^arthy in complexion, 
with a quiet aspect but a brilliant and searching eye. 
Scarcely could the officer believe that this was indeed the 
great man whose name had spread terror among all tlie 



THE DINNER PARTY, 125 

eneraied of liberty in southern America. After the busi- 
ness before them had been properly arranged, the English- 
man was about to retire, but Marion pressed him to stay 
to dinner. The bewildered officei looked round him in 
vain for table or plates, knives oi forks, roast-meats or 
savoury vegetables ; but his suspense was soon to termi- 
nate. Sweet potatoes yet smoking from the ashes wore 
placed upon a piece of bark and set before the American 
general and his guest. This was the dinner, and while 
the officer pretended to eat, he asked many questions. 
"Doubtless this is an accidental meal ; you live better in 
general." <<No," was the reply, "we often fare much 
worse." <' Then I hope at least you draw noble pay to 
compensate?" "Not a cent, sir," replied Marion, «not 
a ct;it!" Lost in amazement, the messenger returned to 
Georgetown, and when questioned as to his seriousness, 
he declared that he had much cause to be serious, " he 
had seen an American general and his officers without 
pay, and almost without clothes, living on roots and 
drinking water, and all for liberty ! What chance have 
we against such men .''" In this rude scene might be 
found one of the most glorious triumphs of the American 
Revolution. It is said that this young officer resigned his 
commission, and never afterwards served during the war. 
When early in the year 1781 General Greene assumed 
the command of the southern army, the cause of America 
began to wear a more cheering aspect. Greene's high 
opinion of Marion induced him to open a correspondence 
with him, and to send to his aid the celebrated legion 
under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Lee. 
This distinguished officer rendered service during the 
continuance of the war, which entitles him to lasting gra- 
titude ; and after its close, he did much to preserve its 
interest in his well-known "Memoirs" which have long 
been read and admired. On joining Marion, the two 
officers planned an attack upon Georgetown, but they 

11* 



126 



FRANCIS MAHION. 



were again batRed by want of strict co-operation in the. 
several parts of llieir force. Marion was compelled for 
several months to persevere in his partisan warfare. He 
pursued Major Mcllrailh, an English oflicer, who forms 
an honourable exception to their general rule of proceed- 
ing in Carolina. He never indulged his troops in the 
excesses to which Tarleton encouraged his men ; he loved 
not to burn houses, or waste growing crops, or insult de- 
fenceless women. When Marion came up with him near 
Half-way Swamp, Mcllraith proposed a parley, and re- 
proaching the American for his Indian mode of fighting, 
proposed a conflict in open ground ; to this a reply was 
sent that if Major Mcllraith thought proper, a pitched 
battle might take place between twenty picked men on 
each side. The offer was accepted, and preparations 
were made for a contest which would have rivalled that 
between the renowned families who decided the early fate 
of Rome ; but as the hour approached, the English officer 
determined to withdraw, and abandoning his heavy bag- 
gage, he escaped with his whole party. It is said that 
when he returned to the army, he was looked upon as 
disgraced by his brother officers, whether because they 
disliked his humanity, or doubted his courage, it is diffi- 
cult to decide. 

The English never lost sight of the determined partisan, 
and so much were they harassed by his attacks that they 
had expeditions constantly in progress to overpower him. 
Colonel Watson, with a considerable force, attempted to 
cut him off from his retreat at Snow's Island, by destroy- 
ing a bridge over Black River, but the Americans reached 
the point before them, and having crossed the bridge, ren- 
dered it impassable by removing most of its planks. 
When a few of the enemy appeared on the other side, 
the keen riflemen of the brigade reached them with their 
bullets, and it is related that Sergeant McDonald of Ma- 
rion's troop mounted into a »ree, and taking deliberate aim 



LTKIITENANT-COLONEL LEE. 127 

peverely wounded Lieutenant Torquano, who was one of 
Watson's favourite officers. Yet a short time after this 
the English were reinforced by a considerable body of 
Tories. A number of cavalry were procured on the Pe- 
dee, and so closely was Marion pursued that the spirits of 
his men began to fail. 

To say that many of them deserted would be to do them 
great injustice. They were incapable of treachery, but 
in the loose state of discipline necessarily produced by 
the nature of their service, many retired to their houses to 
wait for a more favourable season. From a command of 
two hundred men, the troop was speedily reduced to less 
than sixty, and the brave heart of their leader himself 
seems for a time to have yielded to despondency. He ad 
dressed them in a speech full of patriotism, and so wrought 
upon them that those who were with him declared they 
would rather die than desert him. In a short time the 
dark cloud was dispelled — the foe retired, and his own 
men returned to the side of their beloved commander. 

Lieutenant-Colonel Lee again joined Marion, and togc 
ther they invested Fort Watson near Scott's Lake on the 
Santee river. It was on an Indian mound, and was gar- 
risoned by eighty regulars and forty loyalists. Neither 
besiegers nor besieged had artillery — a single piece of 
cannon on either side would soon have decided the con- 
test. Several days passed with little action, but at length 
a happy idea was suggested by Colonel Mayham of the 
brigade. A quantity of small logs of wood were cut bv 
'.he besiegers, and working indefatigably during the night 
they piled them in a square of successive layers, and be- 
fore the morning the mound was high enough to overtop 
the fort. The American riflemen were thi s able to pour 
their balls directly upon the garrison, and finding that 
longer resistance would be vain they capitulated on the 
ninth day after the fort was invested. 

Fort Motte was next summoned, and here too Marion 



128 FRANCIS MARION. 

and Lee were successful, but not until they had been com- 
pelled to burn the house of Mrs. Motte, for whicli purpose 
that patriot lady herself furnished a bow and quiver of 
arrows. From this time, until the close of hostilities in 
Carolina, Marion was ever active in his partisan duties. 
He defeated Major Frazier at Parker's ferry, and joined 
the army of Greene in time to partake of the pleasures of 
battle at Eutaw Springs. 

After the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, hostili- 
ties languished, and it became evident to all parties that 
the war could not long endure. While with his brigade 
at Watboo, Marion was informed that a small party of 
British troops were near, and that a blow might be struck 
which would probably be successful, as the enemy were 
now in the hurry of preparation to depart from the coun- 
try. But he was as humane as he was brave, and know- 
ing that now the crisis was passed and that independence 
was gained, he refused to shed blood, which would have 
ministered only to his personal ambition. In a short time he 
bade adieu to his brigade and returned to his plantation 
in St. John's parish. Here he found all of his interests in a 
state of waste and confusion. His fields bad been over- 
run — his fences destroyed — his horses taken away, and 
most of his negroes carried off by the English. But with 
steadiness he commenced reform, and in a short time he 
restored his affairs to order. 

We find him again taking his place in the Senate of 
South Carolina as the member from St. John's. The " Con- 
fiscation act" at first received his sanction. It passed 
originally in January, 1782, and devoted the property of 
Tories to meet the public wants. But when peace was 
f'.dly restored, Marion could no longer approve of this 
policy, and his voice was raised against it with such effect 
that it could not long be preserved. We have at this time 
an incident illustrating the lofty independence of character 
which distinguished him. A bill was introduced exeoipt- 



MARRIAGE OF MARION. 129 

ing fi'oni legal responsibility many American officers and 
soldiers, who had been active partisans and who had often 
been compelled to use private property in securing their 
ends. The name of Marion was included, but when it 
was announced he rose, and with a brow flushed with ge- 
nerous shame he insisted that his name should be stricken 
off. " If," he said, " I have given any occasion for com- 
plaint, I am ready to answer in property and person. If 
I have wronged any man, lam willing to make him resti- 
tution." It is not wonderful that such a man should have 
been honoured by all who knew him. 

On the 26th of February, 1783, the following resolu- 
tions were unanimously adopted by the Senate of South 
Carolina : — << Resolved, That the thanks of this House be 
given to Brigadier-General Marion in his place, as a mem- 
ber of this House, for his eminent and conspicuous ser- 
vices to his country. Resolved, That a gold medal be 
given to Brigadier-General Marion, as a mark of public 
approbation for his great, glorious, and meritorious con- 
duct." 

In 1784, it was judged expedient by the legislature to 
fortify anew Fort Johnson in Charleston harbour, and Ma- 
rion was appointed to its command, with a salary of five 
hundred pounds. The duties were almost nominal, and 
it is probable that the salary was intended rather to pay 
a past debt of gratitude than to comp-ensate for pre- 
sent services. It was afterwards considerably reduced, 
and the brave soldier of the Revohition might have suf- 
fered want, but for an unexpected change in the even 
tenor of his way. Among his acquaintances was Miss 
Mary Videau, a maiden lady of the Huguenot descent, 
of considerable wealth and of most estimable character. 
She admired Marion so much that her feelings fo. him 
assumed a more tender character, and when their friends 
discovered this, it was not long ere they secured an inter- 
change of views on the subject. When they were united 

I 



1 30 r R A N C I S M A R I O N. 

in marriage, Marion was more than fifty years of age, 
and we have reason to believe that the Uidy was not much 
his junior. They were not blessed with children, but they 
lived together in tranquil content. She was always his com- 
panion in his excursions through the country, and tradi- 
tion has preserved many proofs of the mutual aflectiou 
they cherished for each other, even to the end of life. 

Thus peaceful and happy were the closing years of a 
career which had once been one of excitement and bloody 
conflict. On the 27th day of February, 1795, at his home 
in St. John's parish, Francis Marion breathed his last. 
He had reached his sixty-third year. In the hour of 
death he was composed, and was comforted by the hope 
of future happiness. "Thank God," he exclaimed, "I 
can lay my hand on my heart and say that since I came 
to man's estate I have never intentionally done wrong to 
any." 

In the life of this brave man we see disclosed the true 
secret of American independence. We do not find in his 
course those exploits which dazzle the eyes of the soul, 
and fill us with admiration even for a polluted character ; 
but we find patient courage, firmness in danger, resolu- 
tion in adversity, hardy endurance amid suffering and 
want. In hunger and nakedness and toil, he lived, and 
seemed to live, only that liberty might not die. While 
the names of many of the greatest conquerors shall be re- 
membered only to serve as beacons to posterity, the name 
of Marion will grow dearer to every patriot with each suc- 
ceeding age of the land that has had the priiilege of 
giving him birth. 



MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES LEE. 

Il would be absurd to dnubt or to deny that, in the 
first olush of the American Revolution, the colonies were 
greatly indebted to the military men of foreign birth, who 
volunteered in defence of their liberties. The colonial 
feeling of habitual dependence, from which our nation is 
scarcely free, even at the present moment, needed, at 
that time, all the encouragement and sympathies of those 
who brought with them the benefits of a European train- 
ing. They brought experience and boldness to the infant 
councils of the states, enforced discipline, taught the drill 
and manoeuvre to their troops, and, to the courage and 
spirit of the people, which they were free to recognise, 
contributed, in great degree, the all-important possessions 
of military art and science. These, certainly, were large 
advantages resulting from the presence and the help of 
foreigners; and no history of the United States can possi- 
bly do justice to the first progresses of the nation, should 
it forbear to acknowledge these, and other benefits, which 
we owe to the brave men and patriots of distant counfries. 
But these benefits had their qualifying circumstances also; 
and if the foreign officer served us well in these, he some- 
what disparaged the fortunes of the nation, in other re- 
spects. He was but too frequently disposed to exaggerate 
his own claims, and to deny those of the native — to over- 
look the real merits of the latter, in the consideration of 
his inexperience only — to assert arrogantly a [)f)sition in 
relation to the people whom he came to serve, which had 
never been accorded him by those whom he had left ; and, 

in just the same degree, to exhibit an oiTensive impatience 

131 



l32 CHARLES LEE, 

jf the cWims and arguments of the native, whenever they 
tailed, in all respects, to coiiTcide with his own. Flattered 
into overweening self-forgetfulness by the facility with 
which, in the want of confidence in their own resources, 
the colonists yielded to his pretensions, he was but too 
frequently quite as forgetful of the genius and the endow- 
ments of the people, whose independence was the avowed 
purpose of his mission ; and we find him, not unfrequently, 
arraying himself in the ranks of a party, as assiduous for 
the overthrow of the most trusted leaders of the Revolu- 
tion, as were the avowed friends and partisans of British 
government. It does not so much matter that he himself 
did not contemplate any such evil influence or object, if 
we find him, in the pursuit of selfish purposes, inevitably 
working to such results. It is always sufficient to dis- 
parage the merits of the service, if we find it qualified by 
a self-esteem which insists upon being the exclusive 
authority in deciding upon its direction; if, professing to 
serve, the patriot seeks only to sway, and if, insisting 
tenaciously upon these pretensions, the party conferring 
the alleged service, betrays a reckless determination to 
press his own modus operandi in spite of every circum- 
stance. Among the distinguished foreigners who volun- 
teered in the cause of American independence, and to 
whom public opinion is disposed to ascribe some of the 
objectionable characteristics in this catalogue, is the per- 
son to whose career we devote this brief biography. 

Charles Lee, a native of England, was the youngest son 
of General John Lee, of Dunhall, in Cheshire. His 
mother was Isabella, the second daughter of Sir Henry 
Bunbury, of Stanney, in the same county. He was born 
in 173L Destined from childhood to the profession of 
arms, having received a commission when but eleven 
years old, his education, we may suppose, was designed 
with referenc e to his future career. But of its character 
and kind we have few means to determine. He enjoyed 



HIS INDIAN NAME. 133 

the benefits of ihe grammar school of Bury St. Eomonds, 
and, subsequently, of a similar school in Switzerland. It 
is highly probable that his knowledge of the Greek and 
Latin classics, and his thorough acquaintance with the 
French, were due to other and superior sources. Besides 
this knowledge, he possessed such an acquaintance with 
the Spanish, German, and Italian languages, as met the 
several exigencies of his various and wandering life. To 
his wandering habits, indeed, the acquisition of these 
languages may properly be ascribed ; they, at least, may 
have furnished the motive, in part, as they certainly fur- 
nished one of the facilities for its indulgence, and proba- 
bly tended to lessen the strictness and method of that do- 
mestic training, the deficiencies of which are very clearly 
exemplified by his life, and which were much more im- 
portant to his genius than any of his acquisitions. 

As Lee approached manhood, he dedicated himself to 
the study of his profession. His writings, to say nothing 
of his career, leave us in no doubt that he had acquired a 
very thorough knowledge of what was known in that day 
as the science of war. He speculated upon its principles 
with the boldness natural to his temperament, and with 
the ease and freedom of one who had grappled with the 
ra;itter con amore. At the age of twenty-four, we find him 
at the head of a company of grenadiers. His first expe- 
rience in arms was to be gained on the American frontier. 
In June, 1758, he was ordered to New York, with a part 
of the armament with which the British ministry designed 
the conquest of Louisburg, then in the possession of the 
French, and considered the Gibraltar of the New World. 
Conciliating the Mohawk Indians, while stationed at 
Schenectady, Lee became a favourite among thorn ; and 
was graciously received, by adoption, into the Bear family 
or tribe, under the appropriate name of Ounewaterika, 
which, in the Indian dialect, is said to signify '« boiling 
water," or " the spirit that never sleeps," 'ihxt menial 

Vol. IL 12 



1 3^ C H A K L K S L K E. 

and physical nature of Lee was, perhaps, never bettei 
characterized than by this descriptive title accorded hira 
by his copper-coloured associates. His was, indeed, a 
boiling and restless spirit ; whirh might, fortunately for 
liiiuself, have acquired its most valuable lessons of patience 
and self-subjection from his Indian friends, and in those 
councils in which, by this act of adoption, he was soon 
permitted to deliberate and smoke. But he was not suf- 
fered much time for this. From Schenectady he proceeded 
with the army, which was collected by the 1st of July, 
1758, at Fort William Henry. The assault upon Ticon- 
deroga followed, in which the English were defeated with 
heavy loss ; according to Lee, in consequence of the in- 
competence of their commander. Lee distinguished him- 
self in the action, and was severely wounded. He led the 
assault upon one of the breastworks, rushing forward gal- 
lantly at the head of his grenadiers, and striving to pene- 
trate or pass the barriers, at the cost of several of his ribs, 
which were shattered in the struggle. Removed, with 
other wounded otHcers, to Albany, he remained there until 
his hurts were healed. He was then transferred to Long 
Island, where he remained in a state of inactivity, from 
which no one could sutler more severely than himself. To 
be inactive, indeed, with such a spirit, was impossible. 
We fmd him, accordingly, engaged in adventures, in 
which his temper was much more manifest than his pru- 
dence. Libelled by "a Utile cowardly surgeon," Lee 
subjected the oflender to a severe personal chastisement. 
The victim sought to revenge himself by the practice of 
the assassin. Placing himself in ambush upon a roaa 
which he knew tiuU Lee woidd pass, he suddenly clapped 
a pistol to his breast, with one hand, while, with the other, 
he caught the briille of his horse. Fortunately for Lee, 
the swerving of the steed at this sudden inter ruption, at 
the moment whi-n the .issassin drew his trigger, l>alllea his 
aim, and viaved the life of the rider, who escajied the 



RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 135 

bullel with a slij^lit contusion only. A second pistol 
which the assassin (Jtcsenled, after the faihirc of the first, 
was stricken iroin his hand before he coidd use it, bv one 
of Lee's companions. The culprit was expelled the 
army. 

Preparations for a renewal of the war being now com- 
plete, Lee's regiment was ordered to proceed against the 
French garrison at Niagara. This place was invested by 
a force of three thousand British and Indian troops. After 
a siege of nineteen days, and a sharp action with a consi- 
derable body of French and red rnen, who were approach- 
ing to the relief of the garrison, the place capitulated. 
Lee again distinguished himself by his audacity and cou- 
rage. He had more than one narrow escape. In the 
affair with (he force that sought to relieve the fortress, two 
bullets traversed his hair, but without raising the skin upon 
his forehead. Despatched, after this success, with a small 
party of fourteen men, upon a scouting expedition, in order 
to ascertain the route taken, and the actual condition of 
that portion of the French army which had escaped from 
the battle, Lee was the first captain of English troops that 
ever crossed Lake Erie. He proceeded to Presque Isle, 
and thence by way of Venango, down the western brancii 
of the Ohio to Fort Du Quesne. Leaving this place, after 
a march of seven Irundred miles, he joined General Am- 
herst at Crown Point, and was then sent on another march, 
equally wild and tedious, to Oswego. This duty per- 
formed, he was ordered to Philadelphia, where he re- 
mained throughout the winter, on the recruiting service. 
The campaign of 17G0 found his regiment on its way down 
the St. Lawrence to Montreal. The surrender of this city 
and garrison completed the British conquest of Canada, 
and all active military employment ceasing for a while, 
Lee soon afterwards returned to England. In his Ame- 
rican campaigns he had done justice to the parental choice 
rf profession. He had shown skill and spirit in all the 



136 CHARLES LEE. 

actions in which he had been engaged ; and equal intelli- 
gence and hardihood in those services which implied other 
virtues than those of simple courage. His progresses 
and performances confirmed the expectations of his friends, 
and satisfied all persons of his possession of large native 
endowments as a military man. 

In returning to England he did not retire into idleness. 
Exchanging the sword for the pen, with that ready facility 
which belonged to his impulsive character, he engaged 
warmly in the controversies which followed the British 
conquests in America, and in the question of what was to 
be done with them. It was a much more difficult question 
in that day than in ours, the uses or disposition of a con- 
quered territory, for which the condition of the world 
offered no immediate means of population. Lee had the 
merit, with some of the wise persons of the period, of 
looking beyond the immediate necessities of the time. He 
is supposed to have written the tract entitled <' Conside- 
rations on the importance of Canada, and the Bay and 
River of St. Lawrence," in which, agreeing with Franklin, 
he urged the policy upon the British of retaining posses- 
sion of Canada, a suggestion of the highest importance at 
a moment when the terms proper for a treaty with the 
French, furnished the grave subject under discussion. 
Lee is also thought to have written "A Letter to an Ho- 
nourable Brigadier-General, Commander-in-chief of His 
Majesty's forces in Canada" — an assault of parlicular pun- 
gency upon General Townshend, who succeeded to the 
command of the British army, after the death of Wolfe on 
the plains of Abraham, and whose despatches were thought 
to have forborne the proper tribute of acknowledgment to 
the great merits of his predecessor. This publication, as- 
suming that it was written by Lee, is supposed to have been 
the cause of his failure to find favour with the ministry, 
some of whose friends were severely handled in its *>a,^es. 
Meanwhile, however, his services in America were nc- 



SENT TO PORTUGAL. 137 

knowledgL'd. He was raised to the rank of lieutenant- 
coloneK and was soon induced to lay aside the pen ana 
assume the sword in foreign service. As the ally of Por- 
tugal, Great Britain was required to assist that natiop 
against a threatened invasion of the Spaniards. Eight 
thousand English troops were accordingly sent to the aid 
of ihe Count de la Lippe, to whom the command of the 
allied forces was confided. Lee's regiment, in this new 
service, was under the immediate command of Brisfadier- 
General Burgoyne. The campaign was one of great ac- 
tivity, constant marchings and manoeuvrings, and frequent 
skirmishes and conflicts. In all of these Lee showed him- 
self alert and ready, and acquitted himself honourably. 
In one affair, especially, he acquired great applause. Sta- 
tioned on the south bank of the Tagus, opposite to the old 
Moorish castle of Villa Velha, the British division, under 
Burgoyne, maintained a vigilant watch upon the move- 
ments of the Spaniards, by whom the castle, the village, 
and the surrounding heights were occupied. Discovering, 
on one occasion, that the usually large force of the Spa- 
niards had been greatly lessened, in consequence of the 
disposition elsewhere of a large detachment, Burgoyne 
conceived the design of making an attempt upon the force 
which still occupied the Spanish encampments. The exe- 
cution of this purpose was confided to Lee. Crossing the 
river, with considerable difficulty, in the night time, with 
a detachment of infantry and cavalry, he continued his 
march through intricate mountain passes, and succeeded, 
undiscovered, in gaining the rear of the enemy. His des- 
perate charge, about two o'clock in the morning, upon the 
encampment of the Spaniards, was totally unexpected, anrl 
found them totally unprepared. Though surprised, the 
Spaniards fought with the thorough stubbornness natural to 
their nation. The conflict was a sharp and wild one. 
Tne grenadiers of Lee plied the bayonet wi;h terrible 
•ndustry, while his dragoons followed up with the keen 
12* 



138 CHARLESLEE. 

instinct, of hounds, the scattered fugitives who sought 
to fly. The strife was not more severe than short. Horse 
and foot of the Spaniards were dispersed or stricken down. 
In'fore day had dawned the victory was won. The victors 
did their work perfectly; the post was broken up, the 
troops scattered, captured, or slain ; a brigadier and seve- 
ral other olficers of the enemy lay dead upon the field ; 
their magazines were destroyed ; their cannon spiked ; 
while a large booty, mules, horses, baggage, and equip- 
ments, rewarded the enterprise and valour of the assail- 
ants. Lord Loudon described it to the British ministry 
as " a very gallant action." " So brilliant a stroke speaks 
for itself," W'as the eulogium of the Count de la Lippe, 
who was ever after the friend and correspondent of Lee. 
He bore with him from this campaign, as brilliant testimo- 
nials as rewarded any of its captains. 

Lee was not inactive on his return to England. He 
had already shown a large interest in the atfairs of the 
American colonies, and an equal acquaintance with their 
facts and politics. To this knowledge he gave a practical 
character, by proposing to the ministry the establishment of 
two new colonies, one on the Ohio, and the olher on the 
Illinois. But these projects were not entertained. His 
pen was not discouraged by the failure, though he directed 
it to other topics. He disapproved the plans of ministers 
for prosecuting the Indian war; and when the doctrine 
was broached, which imposed upon the American colonies 
the expense of protecting Canada, he did not hesitate to 
attack the mischievous suggestion with his wonted bold- 
ness. In elaborate and well conceived argument, sup- 
ported equally by history and philosophy, he gave a suffi- 
ciently decided indication of the tendency of his own 
sentiments and sympathies, in that issue which was rapidly 
approaching. He soon became an habitual piilitician, 
suffering no question of public importance to escajie him, 
and plunging as eagerly into the sea of controversy as he 



i 



ARRIVES IN POLAND. 139 

had ever done info that of strife, and with quite ss much 
success and boldness. His opinions were always fearlessly 
conceived, and as fearlessly expressed as entertained. In 
their liberality they would do no discredit to the recognised 
repiibiicariisin of the present era. 

But even political controversy failed to suffice for the 
nervous energies of such a temperament. His military 
ardour was excited by the distractions of Poland, and by 
the presence of the Turk in force upon the borders of 
Moldavia. We find him, accordingly, upon his way 
through Holland, Brunswick, and Prussia, marking his 
progress by his correspondence ; and, finally, at the court 
of Stanislaus, the king of Poland. Here, warmly wel- 
comed by the king and his nobility, he was soon honouri'd 
by the former with an ajjpointment in his staff! iiul the 
military anticipations of our adventurer were not realized 
by this appointment, which was one of compliment rather 
than exercise. He sought not honours, but eni[)loyment. 
The Poles were not prepared at this time to encounler the 
vast and watchful power of the Russians, nor was Stanis- 
laus Poniatowski the prince to bring into profitable activity 
the sentiment of patriotism, which he too, in some degree, 
shared with the people whose liberties he was yet em- 
ployed to overthrow. Lee soon became dissatisfierl with 
the apathy and inactivity which every where prevailed 
around him, and readily accepted a proposal of the king 
to accompany his ambassador to Constantinople. His rest- 
less temperament made change always desirable, and he 
set forth with alacrity on a mission, the hardships of which, 
even if anticipated, would scarcely have discouraged his 
passion for adventure. Reaching the frontiers of Turkey, 
he became impatient of the slow progress of the embas- 
sage, and changed his company for that of an escort which 
guarded a certain treasure destinerl as tribute for the grand 
signior, then on its way from Moldavia. In this progress, 
our volunteer narro^vly escaped a double death from cold 



140 CHARLES LEE. 

and starva'.ion, among the mountains of Bulgaria. It was 
a miracle that he reached Constantinople, where he at 
length arrived, after many hardships, and almost overcome 
by cold and exhaustion. At Constantinople he remained 
several months, examining, we may suppose, with his 
usual eagerness, into all that was curious or instructive in 
the manners and habits of the people. In this period he 
was permitted another escape from death, in consequence 
of an earthquake which tumbled his dwelling in ruins 
about his ears. After this he returned to Poland, and in 
December, 1766, we find him again in England, where he 
sought promotion, though without success, at the hands 
of his own sovereign, to whom he brought a letter of re- 
commendation from his Polish majesty. The neglect of 
the British king and his ministers, was probably due to 
some former indiscretions of our hero; to his liberal senti- 
ments, perhaps, or to the severity of his strictures upon 
persons in authority. Lee did not forgive this treatment, 
and we may, in some degree, ascribe to his feelings on the 
subject, something of that very decided course which he 
took against the crown in the subsequent struggle with the 
colonies. The stamp act had been passed and repealed 
while he had been a wanderer in Poland ; and the colonies 
had been growing warm with unusual fires, while he had 
been freezinsf in the solitudes of Bulgaria. Lee was the 
person, above all others, by his eager mercurial tempera- 
ment, and impetuous industry, to recover lost ground, and 
put himself in the van of progress. He soon imbued him- 
self with the history of English and American politics, dur- 
ing the period of his absence. His letters to Stanislaus 
and others, show with what rapidity he overcame space 
and time. They betray the exultation of his spirit at that 
which the Americans had displayed. "If another attack 
of the same nature should be made upon them," is the 
language of one of his letters to the king of Poland, "by 
a wicked, blundering minister, I will venture lo propltesy 



HONOURS IN POLAND. 141 

that this country will be shaken to its foundations, in its 
weahh. credit, naval force, and interior population." But 
the fruits in America were not yet ripe. Those in Poland 
were supposed to be so. Lee was one of those who 
was always impatient of seed-time and harvest. In 1768 
he hurried once more to Poland, where such events were 
in progress as his liberal spirit most ardently desired. 
The froniiers of that devoted country were overrun by 
armed parties of the confederates. But the blow fur Polish 
freedom was deferred to a more auspicious season. Lee 
was again doomed to disappointment. But there was em- 
ployment to be had. The Turk, the enemy of progress, 
as well as Christendom, was in the field, ravaging Molda- 
via: a formidable enemy, and then one of the first powers 
in the world. Lee volunteered against this foe. "I am 
to have," says he, in a letter from Vienna, " a command 
of Cossacks and Wallacks, ( Wallachians,) a kind of people 
I have a good opinion of. I am determined not to serve 
in the line; one might as well be a churchwarden." It 
was the monotony and lack of enterprise, in the one ser- 
vice, that prompted this expression of disgust. His object 
was practice in his profession, apart from any political pre- 
ference or sentiment. The Russian service, odious in a 
conflict with Poland, was yet legitimate and desirable as 
against the Turks. Lee reached Warsaw early in the 
spring of 1769. Honoured by the king of Poland with 
the rank of major-general, he overtook the army in Mol- 
davia, reaching it in season to take part in a very severe 
action between the hostile forces. Attacked by fifiy thou- 
sand Turkish cavalry, while passing through a difficult 
ravine, the left wing of the Russians, consisting chiefly of 
Cossacks and hussars, was driven back in confusion upon 
the infantry. Rallied and reformed, after a fierce conflict, 
they were barely able to keep their ground till reinforced 
by the second line. The struggle was renewed with su- 
perior fierceness, and, though the Russians succeeded io 



l42 CHARLESLEE. 

obtaining better ground for operations, the 'vhc e column 
was mor? than once in the extremes! peril. The assaults 
of the Turkish cavalry — a splendid body of troops, in 
which the chief strength of the Moslems lay — upon the ob- 
long squares into which the Russian troops were thrown, 
were equally terrible and incessant. The Russians were 
only too fortunate in being able to effect their retreat from 
a position, into which, thrown by rashness and incompe- 
tency, nothing but the tenacious stability and courage of 
their character, could possibly have kept them safe. It 
does not need that we should farther describe the events 
of this campaign, particularly as we have no means for in- 
dividualizing the performances of our hero. It is sufficient 
to know that his conduct was approved of No doubt, 
what he beheld contributed to his military acquisitions, 
which were the chief object of his adventure; but rather, 
it would seem, by the blunders than by the address and 
intelligence of those with whom he found himself asso- 
ciated. His opinions of the skill and genius of the gene- 
rals in command were exceedingly scornful and con- 
temptuous. But his term of service, much against his will, 
ended with the campaign in question. Rheumatism and 
a slow fever, brought on by bad diet and great exposure, 
rendered it necessary that he should leave the army, and 
seek a milder climate. In crossing the Carpathian moun- 
tains, in order to try the waters of Buda, he fell danger- 
ously ill, and, in a miserable village of Hungary, hrs at- 
tendants despaired of his life. The strength of his consti 
tution saved him ; and, after numerous vicissitudes and 
toils, we find him, in May, 1770, at Florence, in Italy. 
He remained in Italy during this summer, relieving the 
monotony of the season by a duel with a foreign officer, 
in which, while he killed his adversary, he himself lost 
two of his fingers. Before the close of the year, he was 
again in England. 

In England it was just as natural that he should rush 



REI'UTED AUniOR OF JUNIUS. 143 

into politics, as in Moldavia that he should seek to do battle 
with the Turks. He now emjjloyed himself in frequent 
assaults upon ministers, who, at that period, it must be 
confessed, enjoyed a happy facility in provoking the hos- 
tiUties of the wise and liberal. His essays were not simply 
partisan. They aimed at something more ; and always 
breathed the most liberal sentiments, and taught ihe doc- 
trines of a proper republicanism. He aimed always at liie 
highest game, and engaged fearlessly wilh several oppo- 
nents of the greatest distinction. He had his sneer for 
Burke, and his sarcasm for Hume. His ironical letter lo 
the latter is full of wit and spirit. Wit, indeed, was one 
of his most formidable weapons. It tipped with a subtle 
poison the shafts which he discharged with an athletic and 
skilful hand. His admirers, however, are not satisfied 
that he should enjoy the reputation of an occasional writer 
only — the guerilla who, when his shaft is spent, disappears 
from the field of action. These unquestionable, though 
occasional, proofs of his ability as a writer and thinker do 
not conclude the claims which they assert for him as an 
author. They assert for him more enduring laurels. They 
claim for him the authorship of the famous letters of 
Junius; and, in spite of some obvious difficulties, which 
have not fully been overcome, they make out a very plau- 
sible case in support of the claim. Lee himself is said, on 
one occasion, inadvertently to have confessed the author- 
ship. His style, ordinarily, is not that of Junius, being 
much more free and familiar; and, though quite as epi- 
grammatic, yet less stately and ambitious. His variety 
and impetuosity would seem to militate against the impu- 
tation. He had the same powers of sarcasm, and, we 
should think, all the adequate knowledge and learning. 
The sentiments of Junius are not dissimilar to those 
notoriously entertained by Lee. Parallel passages from 
his writings, in support of the comparison, have been 
numerously made, to give countenance to the claim ; and. 



144 CHARLES LEE. 

to the ingenious speculator, a thousand reasons might be 
given, quite as good, in all probability, as those which 
sustain the pretensions of any other person, to show that 
Charles Lee and Junius were the same. Still, we are not 
satisfied ; and such will be the answer of all other readers. 
The question must be left where we find it. It is one of 
those questions which can only be adjusted by a direct 
revelation from the dead. The case made for Lee is 
a plausible one, embarrassed, however, by some seeming 
impossibilities. 

In 1773 he resolved upon a tour through the Ameri- 
can colonies. He arrived in New York on the 10th No- 
vember of that year, and soon traversed Pennsylvania, 
Maryland, and Virginia, seeking chiefly, and in all quar- 
ters, the society of the politicians. In the summer of 
1774 he went through the middle and eastern colonies, 
and returned to Philadelphia in season to be present at the 
first session of the continental Congress. In these pro- 
gresses, and while in Philadelphia, he succeeded in 
making himself favourably known to all persons of distinc- 
tion. His reputation had preceded him, and created an 
interest in his behalf; his eccentricities attracted curiosity, 
while his wit, great resources of thought and observation, 
and his patriotic and liberal sentiments, secured respect, 
and frequently compelled admiration. He made a very 
decided impression upon the American leaders, who were 
delighted with the acquisition to their cause of a person 
of such unquestionable worth and talent. He thus pre- 
pared the way for the ready and high acknowledgment 
which they made in favour of his claims, at the very first 
blush of the Revolution, From this moment, his pen and 
tongue became equally and constantly active in the cause 
of the colonies, which he espoused with equal ability and 
ardour. Our space will not suffer us to detail, at greater 
length, his services at this period. Enough that they 
were of importance to the movement which followed. No 



APPOINTED MAJOR-GENERAL. 145 

na'ive American could have shown a greater zeal, and of 
a character more perfectly disinterested. It is not a matter 
of woniier, ihererore, that Lee should have gained so 
grtratly upon the favour of the provincials; or that they 
should be prepared, the moment that the crisis came, to 
confide to him the second military appointment in the 
nation. He had completely identified himself with their 
cause and feelings ; and the purchase of a valuable estate 
in Virginia, and the declaration of his purpose to reside 
upon it, seemed conclusively to unite his hopes and desti- 
nies with those of the country. 

The memorable conflicts at Lexington and Concord, 
which precipitated the crisis in American afTairs, deter- 
mined the future career of Lee. He was appointed, on 
the 17ih June, 1775, the second major-general in the con- 
tinental army, Washington being the generalissimo. That 
Lee had really indulged the hope of being first in com- 
mand, is not improbable. He had all the ambition requi- 
site for such a hope ; and there were many persons in the 
country who shared it with him, and encouraged him in 
the belief that it would certainly be realized. Brilliant, 
however, as were his talents, and proper as were his poli- 
tical principles, it is the great good fortune of America 
that its infant liberties were confided to wiser and stronger 
hands, and to a spirit more calm and equable. The er- 
ratic spirit of Lee, achieving startlingly and wondrously, 
as a general of brigade, would, as the commander-in-chief, 
have probably wrecked the fortunes of the nation. If dis- 
appointed at the preference shown to another, Lee was 
prudent enough to suppress every feeling of discontent. 
He cheerfully accepted the commission tendered him by 
Congress ; but, before doing so, resigned that which he 
had still held in the British service. He made consider- 
able personal and pecuniary sacrifices by the change. His 
fortune was ample ; his income a trifle less than a thousand 
Dounds per aunum. By periling his entire interests upon 

VoL.n. 13 K 



146 CHARLES LEE. 

the cause of American liberty, he proved the integrity ot 
his principles, and the purity of his professions. Con- 
gress, it is true, by a secret article, voluntarily pledged 
themselves to indemnify him for all losses which he might 
sustain; but who was to guaranty the Congress? Their 
capacity to secure Lee against loss, lay wholly in the issue, 
of that doubtful struggle, which the wisest and boldest 
patriotism still beheld in apprehension and with mis- 
giving. 

Lee accompanied Washington to headquarters, then at 
Cambridge. It was while upon their route that they heard 
of the battle of Bunker Hill. At Cambridge, for a while, 
the two generals occupied the same dwelling. In the ar- 
rangement of the army, Lee took command of the left 
wing. Here his capacity and activity were soon and 
equally made manifest. With no opportunity for brilliant 
services, he was content to be simply useful ; and cheer- 
fully seized upon every chance which could enable him to 
improve his command, or promote the progress of the 
cause. Detached on service in Rhode Island, he was at 
once zealous and elhcient ; and, while some of his per- 
formances were thought of doubtful, and even hurtful 
policy, no question was entertained of the general pro- 
priety and becoming spirit of his conduct. New York, 
threatened by the British lleet, Lee earnestly solicited 
from Washington that its defence might be confided to 
him. He obtained his wishes. His approach, preceded 
by a report of his desperate resolution, greatly alarmed the 
good people of Manhattan for their safety. They trembled 
lest any show of defence might provoke the enemy to fire 
the town. The authorities wrote to Lee, deprecating all 
military demonstrations. He laughed at their apprehen- 
sions. «' If," said he, '< the ships of war are quiet, I shall 
be quiet ; but I declare solemnly, that, if they make a pre- 
text of my presence to fire upon the town, the first house 
Bet in flames by their guns shall be the funeral pile of 



IN COMMAND OF NEW YORK. 147 

fome of their best frietids." Such was his answer It 
contained a quiet hint for the loyalists, for whom the 
writer entertained a most bitter aversion. 

Lee's arrival in New York was the signal for active 
preparations. He lost no time in putting the city in the 
best posture for defence. The captains of the British 
vessels of war threatened fiercely ; but he coolly defied 
their threats. The coininittee of Congress failed to supply 
him with the adequate force and materiel which had been 
promised him. He persevered as earnestly as if nothing 
had been withheld. We can only speak in general terms 
of his preparations. Among other of his proc('edings, he 
laid strong hands upon the tories. Where they refused 
the oath of allegiance, he took their persons into custody, 
and confiscated their arms to the use of the country. He 
was not the man for half measures in moments of perilous 
necessity. 

It was while Lee was thus engaged that the fall of 
Montgomery before Quebec suggested to Congress the 
propriety of employing him as the successor of that greatly 
regretted captain ; but this purpose was soon set aside, in 
order to meet a more immediate exigency. The British, 
preparing a descent upon the south, Lee was summarily 
despatched to take cominand in that department. He 
yielded the charge of New York to Lord Stirling, after 
affording an excellent example of vigilance, good sense, 
and spirit, in confronting, with equal decision and intelli- 
gence, the hostility of the enemy, and the apprehensions 
of the local authorities. Lee left his command in New 
York on the 6th March, 1776, and, after a brief delay in 
Philadelphia, where he received the instructions of Con- 
gress, he proceeded on his route into Virginia. Here he 
found employment for a brief period ; and was, indeed, 
compelled to linger, since it was still uncertain upon which 
of the southern colonies the attempts of the firitish would 
be made. Lord Dunraore, with a considerable fleet of 



14S CHARLES LEE. 

small ve&seis was even then in possession of the waters of 
Virginia, ravaging the shores at pleasure, assessing the 
towns and settlements, levying contributions where he 
could, and bringing apprehension and terror every where. 
Lee's presence and counsels were of great advantage to 
the militia, who needed nothing but the experience of a 
practised soldier to apply their patriotism and courage 
eflectually to the preservation of their homes. He coun- 
selled the arming of boats, for their rivers, and the organ- 
ization of a body of cavalry. His plan was to " fit the 
rivers with twelve or eighteen-oared boats, mounting a six- 
pounder at the head of each, fortifying the sides with oc- 
casional mantlets, musket-proof, and manning them with 
stout volunteers, whose principle should be boarding." In 
the absence of better weapons, he recommends the use of 
spears to the infantry. He gives a preference to this 
weapon over the bayonet, saying, "I never in my life had 
any opinion of bayonets." His light-horse were to be 
armed " with a short rifle carbine, a light pike, eight feet in 
length, and a tomahawk." We mention these opinions, 
without presuming to decide upon their merits. That he 
should think lightly of the bayonet, is certainly a very 
curious opinion for a British soldier, and perhaps was only 
an unqualified way of alleging a preference for the pike, 
which, being lighter, might be carried of much greater 
length than any musket. 

But Lee was not permilted to linger in Virginia suffi- 
ciently long to witness any of the results from his sugges- 
tions. The destination of the British fleet was soon un- 
derstood to be South Carolina ; and thither, accordingly, 
he proceeded with all possible expedition. He reached 
Charleston in advance of the enemy ; and prepared, with 
his usual eagerness and impulse, for their proper reception. 
"His presence," according to Moultrie, "gave us great 
spirits. He taught us to think lightly of the enemy, and 
gave a spur to all our actions." But there was an ob- 



ATTACK ON FORT SULLIVAN. 149 

slacle to his progress, at the outset. He was a general 
without troops. The forces assembled for the defence of 
Carolina were chiefly in the service of the state, of which 
he was not an officer. Rutledge, however, then president 
of Carolina using the powers which were vested in hira, 
placed the provincial troops under the control of Lee, 
whose activity soon justified this confidence. The British 
fleet, a powerful armament, at length made its appearance ; 
add, on the 28th June, 1776, opened its numerous bat- 
teries upo?! Fort Sullivan, an incomplete fortification, little 
more than a breastwork, which stood at the very threshold 
of Charleston harbour. This post was under the command 
of Colonel Moultrie. To have been arrested by such an 
obstacle ; to have stopped fairly, and stripped for the con- 
flict, with a fortress which could not have much delayed 
♦he passage of his fleet to the city, was a great blunder of 
the British commodore. Fort Sullivan was really no ob- 
stacle to his advance. An old military principle, borrowed 
from the land service, led to the commission of this error, 
which defeated the objects of the expedition. The city 
captured, the outpost would have been completely isolated, 
and must have fallen at a single summons, as it subse- 
quently did. A fair breeze would, in twenty minutes, 
have carried the British ships beyond the reach of the 
humble battery of logs and sand, which tore the armament 
to pieces. The history of this bombardment properly be- 
longs to the biography of General Moultrie. It will be 
found elsewhere in these pages. Some surprise has been 
expressed, that Lee should not have taiien the defence of 
this fort upon himself; but, surely, the fact needs but a 
single moment for reflection, to dissipate all surprise upon 
the subject. Fort Sullivan was simply one of the outposts 
by which the approaches to the city were guarded. Thai 
the main battle should have been fought at this point was 
simply the blunder of the British commodore. But foi 
bis erroneous tactics, Charleston must have been the scene 
13* 



150 CHARLESLEE. 

of s(rugs:le--the true field of conflict — where the greater 
portion of the troops were assembled, several thousand in 
number, and where Lee properly took his position, in 
anticipation momently of the threatening trial. The whole 
force at Fort Sullivan was but four hundred men. To 
have receiveil its fire, in passing up to the city, without 
expending more than a single broatiside upon it, was all 
that the British commodore should have done. It was but 
a waste of gunpowder, and, as we have seen, an unneces- 
sary imperiling of the morale of his troops, to plant him- 
self regularly before it, for a conflict, in which victory 
would have gained him nothing, since the main fight 
would still have awaited him at the wharves and bastions 
of the city. That Lee should not have bestowed himself 
upon one of his outposts, to the neglect of his principal 
fortifications, seems quite as obvious as that no good mili- 
tary man would ever have supposed that an invading arma- 
ment would have expended itself, unnecessarily, in such 
a conflict. 

Lee's interest in the battle was fervent and unremitted. 
If not actually in command of the post, he gave it much of 
his attention, and was present at a moment when the conflict 
raged most fiercely. Nothing was left undone, by him, 
which could secure the victory to the garrison. He did 
not withhold himself in the hour of danger, and was twice, 
going and returning from the city to the fort, exposed to 
the fire of the enemy. It was highly honourable to him, 
that, seeing how well Moultrie was playing his part, and 
with what a glorious prospect of success, he did not 
selfishly interpose to relieve him of his command, and 
thus rob him of any of his well-earned laurels. 

The defeat and departure of the British fleet, left Lee 
doubtful in what direction they would next turn. For a 
while his task was to hold his troops in readiness to march 
wherever the danger threatened. When, however, it was 
ascertained beyond a doubt that the armament of the tmemy 



ORDERED TO HAERLEM. HEIGHTS. 151 

had passed to the north of the Chesapeake, he addressed 
his energies to other enterprises. He conceived the plan 
of an expedition against East Florida — a region which, 
from the beginning, had been the receptacle for all the re- 
fugees and disconlents of the south ; and, from whence, 
whenever occasion offered, accompanied by motley squads 
of runaway negroes and hostile Indians, they would emerge 
for the invasion and annoyance of the neighbouring colo- 
nies. It was in the midst of his preparations for this ex- 
pedition, that Lee was summoned by Congress to Phila- 
delphia. The resignation of General Ward left him next 
in command to Washington. He was now directed to 
repair to the camp at Haerlem Heights, where the main 
array daily expected an attack from the British under Sir 
Willijim Howe. Here he arrived on the 14th October, 
and took command of the right wing. The anticipated 
danger passed away. The post was not attempted. At 
a council of war, held two days after Lee's arrival, it was 
decided that the whole force of the army, with the excep- 
tion of two thousand men, left to garrison Fort Washing- 
ton, should march across King's Bridge, and so far into 
the country as at all events to outflank the enemy, who 
was evidently aiming to bring all his strength to bear upon 
the rear of the Americans. The only error that seems to 
have been made in this decision of the council, was that 
of periling, unnecessarily, the troops assigned to the de- 
fence of Fort Washington. 

When the array left the heights of Haerlem, the division 
of Lee was stationed near King's Bridge, the better to pro- 
tect the rear. This position was a greatly exposed one, 
and demanded all of his vigilance for its security. Lee, 
however, was quite too enterprising always, to be content 
simply to be vigilant. He boldly ventured upon the 
offensive, and, in harassing the British outposts, his par- 
ties frequently skirmished with detachments of the enemy 
act inferior in force ; and with such success, as in everv 



k 



15'2 fHARLES LEE. 

instance, to speak for the equal courage of his ti Dops and 
the good judgment which planned their enterprises. The 
march of the army occupied four days; the column, with 
its cumbrous trains of baggage and artillery, constantly 
open on its right, to the assaults of the British, whose de- 
monstrations were consequently frequent. Lee covered 
its exposed points with admirable efficiency, still keeping 
between it and the enemy, yet succeeding finally in bring- 
ing his division, undiminished and in tact, until he joined 
it to the main array at White Plains, where a general 
aclion was anticipated. The British approached for this 
purpose ; but the post was too strongly taken for Sir Wil- 
liam Howe to attempt it. After glaring upon it with the 
vexation of the beast of prey who finds the caravan too 
well appointed, he drew off his forces with the intention 
of making New Jersey the scene of operations. As soon 
as this became obvious, Washington resolved to cross the 
Hudson and throw himself in front of the enemy, leaving 
Lee, with seven thousand men, in the position which he 
then occupied. 

The fall of the tw^o forts, Washington and Lee, opened 
the way for the progress of Howe. He pressed into New 
Jersey, while Washington, with a feeble forcej which be- 
gan daily and rapidly to dwindle into greater feebleness, 
found himself compelled to retreat before him. His situ- 
ation becoming critical, he wrote to Lee to join him with 
all possible despatch. Here Lee's misfortunes, if not 
misconduct, may. be said to have begun. He does not 
seem to have given much, if any, heed to Washington's 
entreaties. These entreaties were renewed ; became ex- 
hortations; and, finally, imperative commands. They pro- 
voked no adequate attention. Lee was busy, in various 
ways, and does not appear to have given any consideration 
to these requisitions. He had his own plans of perform- 
ance, just at this moment; which, however, did not reach 
consummation. We have proofs that he made eloquent 



TAKEN PRISONER. 153 

entreaties to the New England troops, then about to leave 
him; which, however, failed to persuade them to continue 
in the field. There was also, on his hands, a very pretry 
little quarrel with General Heath, whom he pererapioriiy 
ordered to do that which he showed no alacrity to do him 
self, namely, furnish troops for the relief of the commander- 
in-chief. Heath, having a special duty to perform, refused 
to recognise the authority of Lee, who had, fortunately, 
too much other business to consider, to nurse properly this 
incidental controversy. At all events, Lee, however em- 
ployed, made but slow progress in joining his superior. 
His tardiness in obeying the commands of Washington, on 
this occasion, is not to be accounted for, and has never 
been explained. It is supposed that his great passion for 
operating independently, was just now more than ever 
predominant in his mind, in consequence of the inception 
of some brilliant scheme of his own, some bold stroke, by 
which he was to confound the British at a blow, and make 
himself the idol-hero of the nation. He loitered and lin- 
gered for two or three weeks on the east side of the Hud- 
son ; and, even after he had crossed the river, proceeded 
on his way with a coolness and deliberation strangely re- 
markable, particularly when it is remembsred that he was 
urged to celerity by continual despatches from the com- 
mander-in-chief. He paid the penalty for his misconduct. 
For reasons which have never been explain^rd, and which 
we should now vainly seek to fathom, he chose, on the 
night of the 13th December, to take up his quarters, with 
only a trifling guard, some three miles from the encamp- 
ment of his army. Here he was surprised by an enter- 
prising British partisan ; and, with bare head, wrapped in 
blanket coat, and slippers, was carried off in triumph by 
his enemy — not a blow struck, not a shot fired — not a 
weapon lifted in his defence. The surprise was so com- 
plete as to leave resistance hopeless. 

His conduct, in exposing himself to this humiliating 



154 CHARLES LEE. 

nazard, was Jt once inexcusable and suspicious; and the 
proofs now exist of a feeling on his part, even then^ inimi- 
cal to the success of Washington. This, while it furnishes 
the key to much of his conduct hereafter, deprives him 
of the benefit of all the excuses offered by his friends on 
this occasion. There can be little doubt, indeed, that, 
while Lee had every desire to secure the independence 
of America, it was not so much a paramount desire in his 
mind, as that he himself should be the military and poli- 
tical saviour who should accomplish this great achieve- 
ment. 

The misfortune which attended his misconduct in some 
degree disarmed the severity of that public censure which 
otherwise must have followed it ; and the sympathies of 
the nation with his condition, made them somewhat for- 
getful of his errors. The severity of his treatment by his 
British captors, deprived suspicion of its argument against 
him; and,. in being taught to tremble for his life, as a 
traitor to the British crown, the Americans were made to 
acknowledge his patriotism, however much they might 
suspect his prudence. General Howe at once put Lee into 
close custody, and wrote to England regarding his case — 
considering him as a deserter from the British army. 
Washington ofTered five Hessian officers in exchange for 
him ; anri, this being refused, warned the British general 
that any violence done to his captive would be surely and 
severely retaliated upon the British officers, and their 
foreign allies. The American general followed up his 
threat by committing half a dozen of his prisoners to close 
custody also ; avowing his resolve to make iheir treatment 
depend wholly upon that to which Lee was subjected. 
This decisive proceeding brought the enemy to his senses. 
Lee, after a detention of several months, was admitted to 
his parole ; and, some time after, was exchanged, when he 
rejoined the American army at Valley Forge. His release 
from captivity was only an apparent good fortune. It 



OPPOSES A GENERAL ACTION. 155 

would have been much better for his fame if he had 
perished in hi.s bonds, a martyr to liberty, and to the hate 
and fear of the sovereign whose livery he had refused to 
wear. The events were now rapidly approaching which 
were to obscure his reputation for ever. 

The evacuation of Philadelphia by the British, and their 
subsequent march across New Jersey, under Sir Henry 
Clinton, drew upon them the vigilant eye of Washington. 
Without delay, the American general put his troops in 
motion also, and, crossing the Delaware, soon made his 
way to Hopewell, in the former state. Here, on the 24!h 
of June, he called a council of war. At this council a 
warm discussion took place upon the question, whether a 
general action should be hazarded or not.-' A majority of 
the officers declared themselves in the negative ; but, at 
the same time, a nearly unanimous opinion was expressed, 
that a further detachment of fifteen hundred men should 
co-operate with the force which was already engaged in 
harassing the enemy's progress. Lee was amongst those 
who declared against a general action. His opposition 
was grounded upon the admitted disparity between the 
experience and discipline of the troops composing the 
rival armies — the difference being greatly in favour of the 
British. No one, as it appears, ventured to urge that a 
general action should be sought at any hazard ; but several 
were of opinion that, in the event of any favourable op- 
portunity, such arrangements ought to be made as should 
bring it on. The council had scarcely been dissolved, 
when Greene, Lafayette, and Wayne, wrote separately to 
Washington, expressing their dissent from the decision of 
the majority. They gave certain and strong reasons, which 
we need not here repeat, for a more vigorous prosecution 
of the war. It is probable that Washington himself, from 
the outset, entertained similar opinions. At all events, 
these communications were such as to influence his deter- 
mination to exercise that discretion which the nature of 



156 CEARLESLEE. 

nis coramind necessarily conferred upon him, and whicn, 
while prudence justified his resort to a council of war, left 
him free to follow its dictates or not, according to his op- 
tion. He now resolved to send out " such a detachment 
as would harass the enemy, and check their progress ;'* 
while he himself, marching in person with the main army, 
should take such a position as would enable him, in the 
event of a favourable aspect of affairs, to bring, at pleasure, 
his whole force into immediate action. The command of 
the advanced troops, of right, belonged to Lee ; but, 
doubting the expediency of the whole proceeding, and 
predicting the evil consequences which would flow from 
its adoption, Lee manifested no alacrity in occupying the 
position which was due to his rank. Witnessing this re- 
luctance, Lafiiyette solicited the charge, which Lee cheer- 
fully yielded up to him. Lafayette, eager to distinguish 
himself, had already begun his march towards the British, 
when Lee, having now had time for reflection, and begin- 
ning to feel to what awkward inquiries, if not suspicions, 
his conduct might give rise, changed his mind, and, in a 
letter to Washington, now requested- that he might be re- 
instated in his command. To this the answer was a ready 
assent ; and Lafayette restored his baton to the capricious 
general, with all the grace of a Frenchman and a courtier. 
Lee, in making his demonstration, had with him a force 
of five thousand men. With these he was to advance, 
while, at a distance of three miles in the rear, Washington 
followed with his whole army. During the night, the 
British were reported to be encamped in the open ground 
near Monmouth Court-House. Washington's plan was to 
begin the attack as soon as they should resume their 
march. Lee was required to make his dispositions ac- 
cordingly, and to keep his men upon their arms all night. 
At five o'clock, on the morning of the 28th, the British 
column was in motion ; and Washington's orders to Lee 
were that he should now move forward, and begin the 



REASONS FOR RETREATING. 157 

attack, " unless there should be very powerful reasons to 
to the contrary." These orders were certainly discretion- 
ary, but they were as certainly of a very imperative de- 
scription ; disobedience to which imj)lied the necessity of 
showing a very great and unexpected change in the con- 
dition of things, differing totally from those which distin- 
guished the relative forces at the time when the instruc- 
tions were given. Lee was further informed that the 
second division was pressing forward to his support. 
These orders, at the outset, were promptly executed by 
the person to whom they were addressed. Lee overtook 
the rear column of the British, and sought, by a proper' 
division of his command, to bring it between two fires. 
The time spent in making these arrangements — unex- 
pected difficulties of the ground — an error on the part of 
one of the brigadiers — and a considerable reinforcement 
of the threatened rear, of which Lee had no knowledge — 
conspired to baffle the success of the scheme ; wiiile a re- 
treat, which Lee himself had never contemplated, by one 
of his brigades, seemed to force upon him the necessity of 
withdrawing his whole division. This he most reluctantly 
ordered, with the intention of forming his troops in the 
rear, whenever he could find the ground suitable to his pur- 
poses and operations. He had thus retired about two miles 
and a half, skirmishing all the while with his now pur- 
suing enemy, when he was encountered by Washington, 
In advance of the main army. The latter, apprized by the 
cannonade of the opening of the game, had been, left by 
Lee in total ignorance of the retreat. This had already 
consumed two hours; yet the latter had never thought to 
inform the commander-in-chief of the unexpected change 
in his affairs. His first knowledge of the disaster and dis- 
appointment came from his encounter with the fugitives 
tnemselves. The surprise and indignation of Washington 
were naturally great. Sternly demanding of Lee the rea- 
son for the disorder which he beheld, he was answered, 
Vol. IL 14 



158 CHARLES LEE. 

according to some of the versions of the affair, with spleen 
and insolence. A sharp but brief conversation ensued 
between ihera, when, after seeing to the formation of some 
of the fugitive regiments, on ground which he himself 
pointed out, Washington demanded of I^ee, '< if he would 
take the command in that place.'"' On his assent being 
given, "I expect then," said Washington, << that measures 
will immediately be taken to check the enemy." Lee 
answered, that his << orders should be obeyed ;" and that 
he "would be the last to leave the field." While Wash- 
ington galloped back to bring up his own command, 
Lee proceeded to execute his task with equal energy and 
promptness. The conflict between his division and that 
of the enemy was resumed with S[)irit ; the British charge 
was sustained with firmness; and, while the American 
army was making its appearance on the ground, and form- 
ing in the rear, Lee brought off his column in good order. 
A general action followed, which was continued through- 
out the day. Darkness alone separated the combatants ; 
and, while the Americans lay on tlieir arms all night, ex- 
pecting to renew the struggle with the dawn of the coming 
day, the British troops were marched off silently, without 
beat of drum, preferring a quick and safe passage to Sandy 
Hook, to the renewal of another doubtful conflict in such 
hot weather. Lee tendered his services on the field of 
6attle to the commander-in-chief, as soon as he put his 
separate command in line, and while the main action was 
corning on ; but what he did — where he led — or how he 
behaved, during the remainder of the struggle, the histo- 
rians give us not the smallest information. 

The conduct of Lee at Monmouth, though much more 
severely visited than strict justice is now prepared to ap- 
prove, was of a piece with that which delayed the junction 
of his troops with those of Washington, at a moment of 
great exigency with the latter. It was probably, in part, 
the result of his habitual eccentricity, and of his reluctance 



COURT-MARTIALLED. 169 

to serve under a man whom he secretly desired to super- 
sede. But this event would scarcely have ruined hini, 
had he remained unobtrusively quiet — had not his irritable 
and impatient temper led him to the commission of farther 
errors. A moderate amount of censure, rather looked 
than expressed, on the part of the American authorities 
and people, would probably have concluded the affair 
But his tongue, that always restless member, and his pen, 
that ready agent of his spleen and sarcasm, compelled the 
attention of the public, and forced upon Washington the 
necessity of subjecting him to arrest and court-martial. 
He wrote two very offensive letters to the commander-in- 
chief, and spoke of him freely and offensively on all occa- 
sions. These letters formed a part of the charges broughi 
against him. These charges included — "Disobedience 
of orders," " misbehaviour before the enemy," and disre- 
spect to the commander-in-chief. Lord Stirling was pre- 
sident of the court appointed for his trial. The inquiry 
seems to have been ample. Lee's defence was able and 
ingenious, but, in some respects, was thought to be insin- 
cere. The court, after some qualification of the terms, 
found him guilty of all the charges, and sentenced him to 
a suspension of twelve months from any command in the 
army; a sentence of considerable severity, and of which 
the sanguine disposition of Lee had left him in no appre- 
hension. It would be doing him great injustice to say 
that the actual proofs on the trial justified this decision. 
But there are offences which the contemporary time alone 
can understand, and of which the future obtains a partial 
knowledge only. The undesert of an individual may be 
thoroughly understood by a community though no detailed 
records, leading to their judgment, may be placed upon 
the chronicle. Something of the severity of this sentence 
was due to the irritation of the American people, at con- 
duct which was at least perplex, and which seemed to be 
at best motiveless; something to the general dislike of the 



160 CHARLES LEE. 

officers of the army, and to the continued indiscretions of 
the offend<:r, who was always giving provocation to his 
neighbours. That he had committed many and grievous 
fauhs, was undeniable ; that he was really guilty of dis- 
obedience of orders, misbehaviour before the enemy, and 
a disorderly retreat, at Monmouth, is a decision which the 
impartial historian, in these calmer periods, will be slow 
to declare. 

Congress confirmed the judgment of the court-martial, 
but only after considerable delay and much discussion. 
The event increased the ferocity of Lee, whose denuncia- 
tions of Washington were bitter and unsparing. He was 
at length called upon to answer and atone for them by 
Colonel John Laurens, of South Carolina, one of the aids of 
the commander-in-chief. Shots were exchanged between 
them, and Lee was wounded in the side. Censured by 
Chief Justice Drayton, rather gratuitously, it would seem, 
in a charge to a grand jury in South Carolina, he chal- 
lenged Drayton to the field ; an invitation \vhich the latter 
declined, on the ground that such a mode of arbitrament 
would outrage his public character. Disgusted with public 
life by these events, and the severity of his fortunes, Lee 
retired to his estates, in Berkley county, Virginia. Here 
he lived like a hermit, in a rude den rather than dwelling, 
his dogs, books, and horses, being his only companions. 
But the restlessness of his mood did not permit that he 
should wholly deny himself the luxury of an occasional 
quarrel with the world, and the bitterness of his hates soon 
found a public utterance from the depths of his solitudes. 
Three months after his retirement, he wrote and published 
an assault upon the military and political character of 
Washington, in the form of queries, which appeared in a 
Maryland newspaper. These caused a temporary excite- 
ment in the breasts of most Americans; his only excepted 
whom they were most designed to injuie. They do not 
seem to have disturbed the calm of Washinjrton's mind 



DISMISSED FROM THE ARMY. 161 

tor a single moment. His comments on these queries, 
unostentatiously conveyed in a letter to a friend, showed 
him entirely superior, in the sedate and even temper of 
his soul, to the feverish hosiilily of his assailant. Lee 
was not the person to emulate this serenity. His temper- 
ament was too peevish, his ambition too vain and eager, 
for a philosophy so profound. Some rumour having 
reached his ears, that Congress, about to diminish the war 
establishment, had determined to dismiss him from the 
array, he seized his pen, in the first moment of angry ex- 
citement, and wrote an impertinent letter to that body 
which provoked the very dismission the report of which 
had so much outraged his self-esteem. He was thus, in 
the constant anticipation of evil, as constantly drawing it 
down upon his head. His connection with the army at 
an end, he became somewhat more tranquil in his temper, 
and soon entered, with more than wonted equanimity, into 
the consideration and discussion of public affairs. Still 
residing on his farm in Virginia, he nevertheless devoted 
himself to books and politics. His correspondence was 
always large, and carried on with the most distinguished 
persons. It was always admirable for its wit; was usually 
suggestive, and marked by the boldness of its speculations. 
His principles, in politics and morals, were noted for their 
liberality — some would say looseness — and, by a freedom 
of tone, and a vivacious ease, w'hich showed them to be 
the natural results of his reflection, and not merely so 
much game, started by his fancy, to be abandoned within 
the hour, for other objects of pursuit. He was a free- 
thinker in most matters, as he certainly was in those of 
religion. He never succeeded as an agriculturist. His 
farm soon became unprofitable, and it was while endea- 
vouring to negotiate its sale, in the autumn of 1782, that 
he was seized, at Philadelphia, with a fatal illness. His 
last words, uttered in the delirium of fever, declared the 
wandering fancies of his mind to be with the army, and in 

14* L 



162 CHARLES LEE. 

the heady currents of the fight. " Stand by me, grena- 
diers!" were the words with which his fiery spirit broke 
loose from its earthly tabernacle. Thus ended the mortal 
career of this remarkable man. He died on the 2d Octo- 
ber, at the premature age of fifty-one. His talents were 
equally distinguished and various. His genius was de- 
cidedly military; impaired only by eccentricities of temper 
and by fits of passion, which were probably due quite as 
much to his early and irregular training, as to the original 
organization of his mind. He was constant in his friend- 
ships and antipathies, and, perhaps, seldom constant to 
any thing beside. If it be urged as his reproach, that he 
was a hearty hater, it must be admitted that he was equally 
hearty in his sympathies and friendships. His writings 
are full of vitality and would bear republication. They 
are usually distinguished by their spirit; sometimes blurred 
by frivolities, but often humorous and witty. He pos- 
sessed a knack of pungent expression which seldom left 
his sarcasm innocuous. His career is one which may be 
studied with great profit, by him whose impulses are erra- 
tic, and who would avoid the shonls and rocks which are 
always likely to wreck the fortunes of such a character. 
" Possessing," in the language of Washington himself, 
*' many great qualities," he was any thing but a great 
man! Capable, under proper training, of reaching the 
very highest eminences of public favour, we find him, 
when most a favourite, sinking suddenly out of sight, into 
obscurity certainly, if not in shame ; <« the comet of a sea- 
son" only; and going out, in utter darkness, when it was 
within the compass of his genius, under a better self-re- 
straining will, to have become one of the fixed stars in the 
sky of American liberty. 



MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS MIFFLIN. 

Thomas Mifflin, descended from one of the oldest 
settlers of Pennsylvania, was born in Philadelphia in 
1744, and was educated in the college of that city and 
in the counting-house of William Coleman (one of tho 
early friends of Franklin) for the business of a merchant. 
In 1765 he visited Europe, and soon after his return he 
entered into a partnership with an elder brother, with flat- 
tering prospects, and by his activity, public spirit, and 
popular manners, soon acquired considerable reputation 
and influence, so that in the twenty-eighth year of his age 
he was chosen one of the two burgesses to represent Phila- 
delphia in the colonial legislature. In the following year 
he was re-elected to the same oflice, associated with Dr. 
FrankUn, and in 1774 was appointed one of the delegates 
for Pennsylvania to the first Congress. 

When intelligence of the battle of Lexington reached 
Philadelphia, in 1775, Mifflin addressed the people as- 
sembled in town meeting, with much boldness, decision 
and eloquence. He engaged earnestly in the enlistment 
and discipline of troops, and was appointed major of one 
of the regiments raised in the city. Upon his arrival at 
Cambridge he was received into the family of the com- 
mander-in-chief as aid-de-camp, (July 4, 1775,) and in 
the following month was made quartermaster-general. 
Upon the appointment of Stephen Moylan as commissary, 
(May 16, 1776,) he was commissioned a brigadier, and 
in this capacity commanded the covering party on the 
night of the retreat from Long Island.* While the army 
was at Newark, (24th December,) he was despatched by 

• See vol. i. p. 30. 

163 



1G4 THOMAS MIFFLIN. 

Washington to Philadelphia to represent to Congress the 
necessity of reinforcements. The manner in which he 
executed his duties is described in the following charac- 
teristic letter.* 

ii Philadelphia, 26th Mv. 1776, ) 
9 o'clock, A. M. S 
« Mv REAR General — At 10 o'clock last evening I re- 
ceived your letter of the 24th inst., and will make proper 
applications of your excellency's sentiments on the pro- 
bable movements of the enemy. I came into this town at 
eight o'clock Sunday evening, and waited on Mr. Hancock 
with your letter immediately afler my arrival. Yesterday 
morning I was admitted to Congress in General Com- 
mittee, and went as far in my relation of the wretched 
appointments of the army, the c'^ngerous and critical 
situation of the Jerseys and Pennsylvania, and the neces- 
sity of immediate vigorous exertions to oppose Mr. Howe 
as their sensibility and my own delicacy M'ould justify. 
After some debate, a requisition was made to the As- 
sembly now sitting, and Council of Safety of Pennsylva- 
nia, of their whole militia, and resolutions formed for the 
purpose of establishing wholesome and necessary regula- 
tions for this and the next campaign. I received orders 
from Congress to remain in this town until your excel- 
lency judged it necessary for me to join the army. Those 
orders were in consequence of the divided and lethargic 
state of my countrymen, who appeared to be slumbering 
under the shade of peace, and in the full enjoyment of 
the sweets of commerce. In the afternoon I waited on 
the Committee of Safety, and with much success addressed 
their passions. The Assembly are to meet this morning ; 
their lesson is prepared by the Committee of Safety and 
some of their leading members, who say matters will now 
go on well. It is proposed to call on every man in the 

* Life of President Reed, i. 66. 



HIS PUBLIC SERVICES. 165 

state to turn out ; such as refuse are to be fined j£5 per 
month, the fines to be distributed among those who enlist. 
To-morrow the city militia is to be reviewed. If they 
appear in such numbers as we expect, I am to give them 
a talk, well seasoned. The German battalion move from 
hence to-morrow. Three regiments from Delaware and 
Maryland are to follow them to Brunswick as soon as pos- 
sible, by which I fear the shores of Delaware, at and near 
New Castle, will be much exposed, provided Mr. Howe 
attempts to disembark in this river. Your excellency's 
opinion on the designs of the enemy, and the best means 
to oppose them, should they divert your attention in 
Jersey, and attempt an impression on this state by means 
of their ships, will be necessary from time to time. The 
light horse of the State of Virginia are ordered to join 
your excellency's army. The principal military stores 
are to be removed from hence. Five hundred thousand 
musket cartridges will be sent to Brunswick. Ordered 
1000 wagons to be collected, if possible near this city, 
to remove, when occasion requires, the most essential arti- 
cles belonging to the public. I sent Colonel Harrison's 
letter to him last evening. Mrs. Washington's letter is in 
the post-ofTice, and will be forwarded by post at eleven 
o'clock this day. 

«' I am, my dear general, with much attachment, your 
obedient, humble servant, Thomas Mifflin." 

General Miftlin succeeded in raising fifteen hundred 
men in Philadelphia, who arrived in the camp at Trenton 
about the 10th of December, and on the 28th he joined 
the commander-in-chief in person with further reinforce- 
ments. He was in the battle of Princeton, but did not 
distinguish himself there. For the ability and energy he 
had displayed, however, in bringing into service the 
militia, he was, on the''17th of February, 1777, appointed 
a major-general ; and he continur d to act in the quarter* 



166 THOMAS MIFFLIN. 

master's department, though without fulfilling its difficult 
duties to the perfect satisfaction of e ther the army or 
Congress. 

In the gloomy period which succeeded the campaign 
in New Jersey, General Mifflin did not attempt to conceal 
his discontent, and, after the battle of Germantown, he 
tendered the resignation of his commissions as major- 
general and quartermaster-general, on the ground of ill 
health, and retired to Reading in the interior of Pennsyl- 
vania. His commission of quartermaster was accepted 
on the 7th of November ; but the rank of major-general 
was continued to him, without the pay belonging to the 
office, and he was at the same time chosen a member of 
the new board of war, consisting then of Colonel's Har- 
rison and Pickering, with himself, but enlarged before it 
went into operation by the addition of Richard Peters, 
Colonel Trumbull, and General Gates, one of whom was 
chosen in place of Colonel Harrison, who declined his 
appointment. The council of war which assembled on 
the 8th of May, 1778, was composed of Generals Gates, 
Greene, Stirling, Lafayette, Kalb, Armstrong, Steuben 
and Knox, with himself and the commander-in-chief. 
On the 21st day of May he obtained leave to rejoin the 
line of the army. 

General Mifflin was one of the chief of the conspirators 
engaged in the Conw^ay cabal, and the most active of the 
natives of the country who were implicated, with the 
exception perhaps of Dr. Rush of the same state. Upon 
the occasion of his return to the army, General Wash- 
ington, doubtless with a full knowledge of his conduct 
and feelings, wrote to Gouverneur Morris: "I am not a 
(ittle surprised to find a certain gentleman, who, some 
lime ago, when a cloud of darkness hung heavy over us, 
and our affiurs looked gloomy, was desirous of resigning, 
tc be now stepping forward in the^ine of the army. But 
if he can reconcile such conduct to his own feelings, as an 



HIS DEATH. 167 

officer and a man of honour, and Congress have no objec- 
tion to his leaving his seat in another department, I have 
notliing personally to oppose to it. Yet I must think, that 
gentlemen's stepping in and out, as the sun happens to 
beam forth or become obscure, is not quite the thing, nor 
quite just with respect to those officers who take the bitter 
with the sweet."* General Mifflin continued to cherish an 
unfriendly disposition towards the commander-in-chief, 
but the disgrace of Conway and Gates, and the conse- 
quent overthrow of their party, prevented any conspicuous 
manifestations of ill feeling. 

On the 12th of November, 1782, General Mifflin was 
elected, by the legislature of Pennsylvania, a member of 
Congress. On the 3d of November, in the following year, 
he was chosen president of that body ; and in this ca- 
pacity he received the commission of Washington, which 
was resigned at Annapolis, on the 23d of December. 

After the close of the war. General Mifflin continued to 
be actively engaged in political affairs. In 1785 he was 
chosen a member of the state legislature, of which body 
he was made speaker; in 1787 he was a delegate in the 
convention to form the federal Constitution ; in October, 
1788, he succeeded Franklin as president of the supreme 
executive council of Pennsylvania, which office he held 
until the autumn of 1790 ; he was also president of the 
convention which in the last mentioned year formed the 
constitution of Pennsylvania, under which he was elected 
the first governor, and he held this office nine years. In 
December, 1799, a short time before the expiration of his 
chief magistracy, he was returned to the legislature, and 
he died while attending the sittings of that body, at Lan- 
caster, on the 21st of January, 1800, in the fifty-seventh 
year of his age. 

• Washington's Writings, v. 371. 



MAJOR-GENERAL SAMUEL H. PARSONS. 

Samuel Holden Parsons, son of the Rev. Jonathan 
Parsons, was born in Lyme, Connecticut, on the 14th of 
May, 1737. He graduated at Harvard College in the class 
of 1756 ; studied law at Lyme in the office of his uncle, 
Matthew' Griswold, (afterwards governor,) and in 1759 
commenced the practice of his profession in his native 
town. He soon rose to distinction, and from 1762 to 1774 
was a member of the General Assembly of Connecticut, 
from which he received the appointment of king's attor- 
ney He now removed to New London, where, in 1775, 
he was chosen colonel of miUtia. On the 9th of August, 
1776, he was appointed a brigadier-general by Congress. 
In 1779 he succeeded Putnam as commander of the Con- 
necticut line of the army, and served with reputation 
until the close of the war. On the 23d of October, 1780, 
he was promoted to the rank of major-general. He was 
an active member of the Connecticut convention for rati- 
fying the Constitution of the United States. In 1785, 
he was appointed by Congress one of the commissioners 
to treat with the Indians at Miami ; and m 1788, Presi- 
dent Washington conferred upon him the office of judge 
of the North-western Territory, including the present 
states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Michigan. In the 
foliowincr year, he was appointed by his native state a 
commissioner to treat with the Wyandots and other 
Indians on the borders of Lake Erie, for the extinction 
of the aboriginal claims to lands included in the » Con- 
necticut Western Reserve." While returning from this 
service to his residence at Marietta, Ohio, he was drowned 
by the overturning of his boat in descending the rapids 
of Big Beaver rive^ on the I7th of November 1789, at the 
age of fifty-two. 




^S. (SEW, \Bo [LaW(D®[Ll 




MAJOR-GENERAL BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

The ordinary remark that great exigencies produce men 
qualified to meet tiiem, was well illustrated in the subject 
of the present biography. Eminently a man of the people, 
endowed with substantial, but not brilliant, qualities, he 
possessed the happy art of conciliating opposing interests, 
and of keeping alive a steady resolution where else there 
would have been wavering from the common cause. At 
the same time clear, good sense, straightforward firmness 
and honesty, and unwearied faithfulness, gave weight to 
his counsels, and marked him out for responsible positions, 
in preference often to men of greater military knowledge 
and more striking character. In this resj)ect it is perhaps 
enough to say that he early acquired and never lost the 
confidence and approbation of Washington. 

Benjamin Lincoln was born on January 24th, 1733, at 
Hingham, Mass., where his family had long resided, and 
where it still may be found. He was the son of Colonel 
Benjamin Lincoln, a farmer in good circumstances, whose 
estate and calling he inherited. His early education was 
limited to those branches taught in the common schools of 
the town ; though, as he was a man of active and inquiring 
mind, and had access to books and to good society, no 
deficiencies of culture were apparent during his important 
public career. He was early appointed to various offices 
in his native town and county, and, on the commencement 
of the difficulties with Great Britain, embraced the side of 
the colonists with great zeal and efficiency. In Septem- 
ber, 1774, he was chosen to represent Hingham in the 
General Court, that afterwards resolved itself into a pro- 
vincial Congress, of which Lincoln was the secretary, and 

Vol II 15 169 



170 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

he served in the same capacity in the second body of the 
sarae kind, which met at Cambridge, 1775. He was also 
a member of the " Committee of Supplies," and, in May 
of the same year, was one of the two muster-masters aj)- 
pointed to form the " Massachusetts army." 

These functions naturally led him into a military career, 
for which he had been somewhat prepared by his dutios 
as an officer of the militia. During the autumn of 1775, 
he was promoted considerably ; and in February, 1776, he 
received a commission as brigadier-general from the Council 
of the state, and soon after became known to Washington, 
whose army was in the vicinity of Boston at the time, as 
one of the most energetic and zealous patriots of Massa- 
chusetts. In the May following, he was made major- 
general ; and, during the summer, had charge of military 
affairs throughout the state. 

The news of the battle of Long Island found our hero 
engaged in directing the erection of works for the defence 
of Boston harbour. He was now put in command of the 
Massachusetts militia, who were furnished for the conti- 
nental service, and with them joined the army on York 
Island. Soon after Lincoln's arrival, the enemy succeeded 
in cutting off Washington's water communication with 
Albany, and forced him to retreat to White Plains, and 
finally to cross the Hudson, leaving Lincoln and his troops 
on the eastern side, attached to the division of General 
Heath, whom he directed not to act without consulting the 
Massachus'^tts general. 

At the close of 1776, Lincoln, having under him the 
greater part of a new levy of six thousand militia of 
Massachusetts, was engaged with General Heath in the 
attack on Fort Independence, which, being not well 
managed, turned out badly. This was in the latter part 
of December; and, on the 10th of January follow- 
ing, he crossed the river, and joined Washington at 
Morristown. On the 19th of February, he was trans 



SURPRISED AT B U N D B R O O K. J71 

feired by Congress to the continental service, with the 
rank of major-general. 

After this appointment, Lincoln was stationed at Bound- 
brook, on the Raritan river, a few miles from New Bruns- 
wick, the advanced post of the British. This was a most 
exposed situation, requiring the greatest vigilance in keep- 
ing it. In spite of all care on the part of the general, the 
patrols were negligent. A party of some two thousand 
men, under Lord Cornwallis and General Grant, surprised 
the post, on the morning of the 13th of April. Lincoln 
had barely time to escape with one of his aids before his 
quarters were surrounded. Another aid, with the gene- 
ral's papers, was captured, as were three pieces of artillery. 
About sixty of the Americans were lost in killed, wounded, 
and prisoners. The same day, the British having retired, 
Lincoln resumed his position with a stronger body of 
troops. In the manoeuvres which s.ucceeded in that quar- 
ter, he maintained his reputation for discretion and energy. 
He remained attached to Washington's command till, in 
the latter half of July, he was sent north, together with 
General Arnold, to act under General Schuyler against 
Burgoyne,»who was rapidly and triumphantly advancing 
towards Albany. In compliance with the direction of 
Washington, Lincoln was put in command of the militia, 
over which, as was expected, he exercised the most bene- 
ficial influence. He arrived at Manchester, Vermont, 
which was the rendezvous of the troops coming in from 
New Hampshire and Massachusetts, on the 2d of August, 
and at once entered on the arduous duties of his command. 
He had to discipline his raw troops, correspond with the 
authorities of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Ver- 
mont, procure supplies and ammunition, of which there 
was a serious deficiency in his camp, and, at the same 
time, to maintain a constant watch upon the enemy. To 
the manner in which these functions were discharged — 
especially the establishment of order and discipline among 



172 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

the militia — was owing, in a large degree, the great ad- 
vantage gained by the republican cause in the surrender 
of Burgoyne. 

The victory of Stark at Bennington, and the success of 
Arnold in raising the siege of Fort Schuyler, were followed 
up by Lincoln, who seized the posts of the enemy upon 
Lake George, and broke Burgoyne's line of communica- 
tion. On the 22d of August, after the battle of Still- 
water, by which the fate of the British army was in fact 
decided, Lincoln joined Gates at Stillwater, in obedience 
to his orders, and took command of the right wing, con- 
sistmg of the eastern militia, and Nixon's, Glover's, and 
Patterson's brigades. In the action of October 7th he 
had no immediate share, but on the 8th his division 
moved forward, driving the British out of their lines. 
Soon afterwards, in leading a small force of militia to a 
post in the rear of Burgoyne's army, he fell upon a party 
of British by mistake, supposing them to be Americans, 
and was severely wounded, his right leg being fractured 
as he was turning his horse to escape. This wound con- 
fined him a year, and lamed him for the rest of his life. 
In consequence of this he was not present at thf surrender 
of Burgoyne, and did not rejoin the army till August, 1778. 
During this long confinement he received numerous gra- 
tifying evidences of the high regard in which he was held 
by his brother officers, particularly those who had been 
under his command. Washington also conferred on him 
a special mark of esteem, in the gift of a set.of epaulettes 
and sword knots, which he had received from a French 
gentleman to be bestowed on any friend lie might choose. 

General Lincoln arrived in "Washington's camp on the 
7th of August; on the 25th of September, he was appointed 
by Congress to the chief command of the southern de- 
partment of the army, and on the 8ih of October, departed 
to enter upon this most difficult sphere of action. 

He arrived in Charleston on the 4th of December, hav 



LOSS OF GEORGIA. 173 

iDg been detained some lime upon the way. Not long after, 
Colonel Campbell, at the head of two thousand British 
troops, took Savannah, with alossof more than five hundred 
men on the part of General Howe, who, with eight hundred 
continentals and some five hundred militia, attempted to 
defend it. At the same lime, General Prevost, the British 
commander in Florida, invaded Georgia from the south — - 
took a fort at Sunbury, under command of Major Lane, 
making the whole garrison prisoners, and then joined 
Campbell at Savannah. The state of Georgia was thus 
lost for the present, and the sole American army in the 
south almost destroyed. 

All this did not, however, dishearten the steady and re- 
solute Lincoln. 'He collected supplies and reinforcements 
with the utmost industry, and on the 3d of January, 1779, 
was able to take post at Purysburg, some thirty miles 
from the mouth of the Savannah river, #'iih nine hundred 
and fifty men. This small force was increased in the 
course of the month to three thousand seven hundred, of 
whom only eleven hundred were regular troops. The 
militia added very little to the strength of Lincoln's little 
army ; those from South Carolina were especially trouble- 
some and restive to discipline. They were, ere long, 
however, restrained by a law which subjected them to be 
transferred to the regular service, or instantly tried and 
punished, for any act of insubordination. Greater num- 
bers of them were also called out, and a regiment of 
cavalry was organized. 

Lincoln now being able to attempt more extensive ope- 
rations, sent General Ashe, with sixteen hundred men, 
one hundred of whom were continentals, to take post op- 
posite Augusta. He arrived there on the l3th February; 
the British fled to Savannah at his approach, supposmg 
his force to be much larger than it really was. Lincoln 
ordered him to follow the enemy down the river in order 
to prevent any demonstrations against his own position, at 

15* 



174 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

Purysluirg. Ashe obeyed, but with culpable taitliness, 
and neglect of proper precautions. In consequence, Pre- 
vost surprised and defeated him, making prisoners of hia 
regulars, who alone stood fire. Ashe himself was among 
the first of the fugitives, and not more than four hundred 
and fifty of his whole force of militia ever returned to the 
camp of Lincoln; the rest were killed or captured, or else 
betook themselves to their homes. 

Lincoln's army was thus diminished to two-thirds of its 
previous number. Congress had voted a thousand men 
from Virginia for the southern department, but they were 
not forthcoming. Still Lincoln preserved the same cou- 
rage and determination, and never omitted a single eflbrt. 
Considerable bodies of militia were raised, and Governor 
Rutledge took post at Orangeburg, and distributed them 
so as to protect South Carolina, which was now threatened 
from almost ever^ quarter. Lincoln in the mean while 
marched to Georgia, for the purpose of seizing Augusta, 
and confining the enemy to the coast, leaving General 
Moultrie with a thousand men at Purysburg. General 
Prevost, in consequence, made a feigned march towards 
Charleston, hoping to call Lincoln back to its defence 
But the latter seeing through this design reinforced Moul- 
trie with three hundred light troops from his own force, 
and requested Governor Rutledge to march his militia 
from Orangeburg to the capital, while he himself continued 
his course towards Savannah. 

Prevost finding the people of the country favourably 
disposed to the British cause, changed his feigned march 
into a real one, and compelled Moultrie to retreat upon 
Charleston, where Rutledge joined him on the 10th, in 
season to save the place. Lincoln, recalled to the dti- 
fence of the city, arrived there on the 14th, Prevost having 
retreated two days before on the rumour of his coming. 
Being .anxious to strike a decisive blow at this antagonist, 
andof Closing with honour a campaign which had hitherto 



ATTACK ON STONE INLET. 175 

been fruitless, Lincoln rletermined to attack the British 
advanced post on Stone Inlet, and carry it before assistance 
could be sent from their main body, which was stationed 
on John's Island opposite. 

By the time that the American army was prepared for 
this step, the British force was diminished to about six 
hundred. Moultrie was ordered to move from Charleston 
to threaten the British on the island, while the main body 
of the Americans made the attack. But he did not arrive 
till the time for his aid had passed, and, in consequence, 
the attempt was a failure, though all the dispositions were 
made with good judgment, and the troops under Lincoln 
fought with bravery. The loss on each side was about 
one hundred and sixty. 

This battle was followed by the withdrawal of Prevost 
from the neighbourhood of Charleston, leaving Colonel 
Maitland, with eight hundred men, to harass the Ameri- 
cans. Lincoln, w'ith nine hundred continental troops — • 
the militia having returned home after the danger was 
over — took post at Sheldon. The summer heats now put 
an end to active operations. The health of the general 
was already seri(>usly affected by the climate, and the 
wound in his leg had re-opened. On account of this Con- 
gress voted to him permission to resign his distinct com- 
mand, and to return to the army under Washington. 
This served as the occasion for the manifestation of that 
esteem which he had gained in spite of the misfortunes he 
had experienced. All parlies, including General Moultrie, 
on whom the command would devolve in case of Lincoln's 
withdrawal, united in urging him to remain. In conse- 
quence, he determined to do so, broken as was his health ; 
and, on an intimation of this determination to Congress, 
he was, by a vote of that body, requested to continue his 
command. Measures were also decided on to strengthen 
his army, though they were not put in execution with suf- 
ficient promptness. 



176 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

Meanwhile Lincoln had not only to struggle with illnesa 
which confined hitn to his bed, but with the insubordina- 
tion of his troops, some of whom even mutinied, for want 
of pay and clothing. On the iSth of August he also re- 
ceived a letter from the provisional government of Georgia, 
entreating that General Scott's command, which was 
marching from the north to join him, might be directed 
to the protection of the upper counties of that state. How- 
ever, before this was decided. Count D'Estaing, the 
French admiral, arrived off the coast, (on the 1st of Sep- 
tember,) for the purpose of attacking Savannah in combi- 
nation with the Americans. 

Lincoln thereupon raised what forces he could, and left 
Charleston on the 8th. He was delayed by various cir- 
cumstances, so that he did not arrive at Savannah till the 
16th, where the French force was before him, having al- 
ready summoned Prevost to surrender to the arms of 
France. Against this procedure Lincoln remonstrated, 
and it was agreed that thereafter all negotiations should 
be carried on in the names of both the French and Ameri- 
can commanders. 

The preparations for the attack were injudiciously pro 
longed for several days, giving the British opportunity to 
complete the defences of the town, and to receive a rein- 
forcement of eight hundred choice troops, under Colonel 
Maiiland. The place now being deemed too strong to 
be taken by assault, much lime was lost in bringing up 
artillery from the French ships. A regular siege was at 
last commenced, but, after having been continued five 
days without effect, it was determined to carry the town, 
if possible, by assault. The main body, under Lincoln 
and D'Estaing, was to attack the principal redoubt in 
front, while a column under Count Dillon was to fall on 
the rear of the same fortification. The main column 
moved on the evenmg of October 9th, under cover of 
darkness, and came nea*- the redoubt before they were dis- 



k 



SIEGE OK SAVANNAH 177 

covered. A hot fire was opened on them, but they faced 
it most bravely. Climbing on the bodies of their fallen 
comrades, the survivors amid that bloody storm madt 
their way into the battery, drove out its defenders, and 
raised the American flag on the parapet. 

D'Estaing had meanwhile been carried off the fieldj 
wounded, Pulaski was gone also, and the French were let't 
without a leader, as Lincoln could only speak Engli.sh. 
At this moment, when the victory seemed almost gained, 
Colonel Maitland, with consummate skill and courage, 
brought up the dragoons and marines from the neighbour- 
ing batteries, and forced the allies to withdraw, just as 
Dillon's column appeared in the rear. Had it come up a 
few minutes sooner, the British would have lost every 
thing. As it was, Lincoln soon perceived the impossibility 
of success, and drew off his forces in good order, wiih 
their wounded. The loss of the French was six hundred 
and thirty-seven killed and wounded ; and of the Ameri- 
cans, two hundred and forty. The British, who fought 
under cover, lost some hundred and twenty only. The 
siege was at once raised, in spite of Lincoln's endeavours 
to induce the French commander to prosecute it farther. 
The French embarked on board their ships, the militia 
went home, and Lincoln was left once more with but a 
small and discouraged body of regular troops to protect 
the Carolinas. 

Though the failure of this undertaking spread a gloom 
throughout the whole country, it seems not to have 
diminished the public confidence in Lincoln, or his own 
reliance upon himself He made every endeavour to pre- 
Dare for the large army M'iih which the British government 
were now designing to conquer the whole south. Espe- 
cially he attempted to procure the formation of regiments 
ot negroes, but the legislature would not consent to it 
Congress, however, sent to his aid several regiments of 
troops, and three frigates, though he would have heex% 

M 



178 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

better reinforced with the means of pa^'ing his murmuring 
soldiers, and providing necessary supplies. But for every 
difficulty he had a resource, and never seemed to be bur- 
dened beyond his powers. 

The first step was to make good the defences of Charles- 
ton, but while the works were in prog ess the small-pox 
broke out in the city and put an end to all labour. Fi- 
nally the expected descent of the British tbrces took place. 
Sir Henry Clinton with an army more than three times 
outnumbering that which Lincoln could bring against him, 
landed on John's Island, on the 10th of February. In- 
stead of marching directly upon the city, which was in no 
condition to resist hira, he made very slow and cautious 
advances, as if in the presence of an army equal to his 
own ; fifteen days were occupied in making a progress of 
thirty miles. 

In this emergency every thing seemed to work against 
the Americans. Governor Ruiledge, endowed by the le- 
gislature with powers little short of dictatorial, ordered 
out the militia of the state, but very few obeyed. The 
shipping, on which Lincoln had placed great dependence 
for the defence of the town, proved to be useless. At the 
same time the civil authorities utterly refused to consent 
to an evacuation of the ciiy, though a council of war de- 
cided that it was untenable ; and though there was no doubt 
that it must ultimately surrender, they declared to Gene- 
ral Lincoln that if he attempted to leave them, they would 
destroy his boats, and open the town to the enemy at once. 

Before Sir Henry Clinton came up to the city, the de- 
fences were completed, through the perseverance and en- 
ergy of Lincoln, who himself took pickaxe and spade, and 
laboured among the negroes, as an example to others. 
The British appeared before the batteries in the first week 
of April, and commenced a regular siege. By the 16th 
they had pushed forward their entrenchments so that small 
arms be^an to be used with great effect between the par- 



SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. l79 

ties. At the same time they succeeded in cutting ofT Lin- 
coln's communication with the country, and his provisions 
began to fail. A truce was arranged on the 21st, to settle 
terms of capitulation, but Lincoln's proposals were rejected. 
A council of war at the same time deliberated on the pos- 
sibility of drawing off" the garrison, but that was agreed 1o 
be out of the question. Defence to the last moment was 
accordingly resolved on. The siege was renewed and 
prosecuted with unabated vigour; the discharge of small 
arms by the sharp shooters of both sides was incessant, 
while the roar of howitzers and bursting of shells knew no 
abatement from the darkness of night. 

On the 8th of May, the besiegers having carried their 
works to the very edge of the canal in front of the Ameri- 
can entrenchments, and being prepared for an assault, Sir 
Henry Clinton once more summoned Lincoln to surrender. 
A truce was agreed upon till the next afternoon, and mean 
while the militia, supposing all to be over, without waiting 
for orders, betook themselves with their baggage to the 
town, leaving the lines in great part undefended. The 
same terms were once more offered by Lincoln, and once 
more refused, and on the 9th, at evening, hostilities re- 
commenced.* The scene that night is described as terrific. 
The constant firing of mortars, the bursting of shells in the 
air, the explosion of magazines and ammunition chests, 
and the groans of the wounded and dying grew more and 
more fearful as the drama approached its close. For two 
days and nights the unequal conflict was maintained with- 
out cessation, till at last the general was besought by the 
inhabitants and the authorities to surrender. Indeed it 
was impossible longer to protract the struggle. All his 
provisions were exhausted, except a little rice, the militia 
had thrown down their arms, and the regulars were en- 
tirely worn out by severe and long-continued labour. On 
tlie 12th the capitulation took place, on terms exceedingly 
favourable to the Americans. 



180 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

To the ropnblioan oauso. the loss of Charleston was the 
severest blow roecivoil during the wiir, niul caused n very 
great depression in the popular feeling. Lincoln, however, 
lost nothing of the general respect and eonfKlenee. This 
was only to render him justice. It must be adinitled that 
his conduct throuj:i;h the whole atVair was the most judi- 
cious and admirable that it possibly could have been. 

After the surreiuler of Charleston, Lincoln remained i 
prisoner on parole till the first of November, when he was 
exchanged. lie did not however rejoin the army till 
June of 1781, but in compliance with the suggestions of 
Washington, remained in Massachusetts, engaged in raising 
recruits and procuring supplies, a business for which he 
was well adapted. On returning to the camp, he took 
command of a division, and for a month remained in the 
vicinity of New York, where the commander-in-chief was 
engaged in watching the movements of the enemy. During 
the subsequent march of the army to the south, Lmcoln 
had the immediate command, and participated in the siege 
of Yorktown, and the surrender of Cornwallis. For his 
services on this occasion he was thanked together with 
Lafayette and Steuben, in Washington's general orders of 
October 20th. In the capitulation he took a conspicuous 
part, and must have been gratified by meeting Lord Corn- 
wallison an occasion like that in which only a year before, 
both hail performed totally dillerent characters; Cornwallis 
having been one of the principal officers of Sir Henrv 
Clinton's army at Charleston. 

Soon alter this. General Lincoln was withdrawn from 
active service in the field, by his appointment to the im- 
portant and arduous office of Secretary of War. In this ca- 
pacity he served the country till the disbanding of the array, 
in October, 1783, No man could have been better suited 
to this post, during that most critical period. Besides its 
regularly burdensome duties, the officers of the army, many 
of them being pecuniarily ruined by their long devotioo to 



POLITICAL SERVICES. 18t 

me service, were clamorous for some more solid acknow- 
ledgment of their labours than they had yet received, ot 
than seemed possible from an exhausted treasury. To 
Lincoln's tact, good judgment, and personal influence, th*» 
infant republic was much indebted for its protection from 
ihe great and perhaps incurable evils, that threatened to 
grow out of their just yet apparently unallowable demands, 
which were finally settled by compromise. 

After retiring to private life, at his home in Ilingham, 
General Lincoln engaged at first in a plan for purchasing 
and .settling the wild lands of Maine. lie also devoted 
himself to various objects of public utility, and wrote 
several essays, which remain as evidences of creditable 
tastes, and of a healthy activity of mind, on the part of one 
whose early educalion and subsequent employments had 
done little to foster literary propensities, lie was called 
from retirement by the breaking out of Shay's rebellion, 
which he succeeded in quelling. He also took an active 
share in the discussion which preceded the adoption of 
the federal constitution in Massachusetts, and by his in- 
fluence contributed very greatly to bringing about that 
result. In 1788 h6 was elected lieutenant-governor; 
and afterwards, when the general government came to be 
organized in 1789, he was appointed by Washington col 
lector of the port of Boston, which office he held until, in 
1806, the infirmities of old age rendered him incapable of 
discharging its duties. During this time he was also in 
trusted with missions to various Inriians tribes of the south 
and west, which he performed to the perfect satisfaction 
of the government. In the year 1798, his pecuniary cir- 
cumstances, which after the Revolution had been exceed- 
ingly straitened, but which the income of his collectorship 
had much improved, became .seriously involved in conse- 
quence of the failure of General Knox, whose notes he had 
endorsed. In this embarrassment, the integrity of Lincoln's 
character was fully manifested. His friends, in view of the 

Vol. II. 16 



183 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

peculiai cueumstances of the case, urged him to put nis 
property out of danger, but he constantly reiused. The 
affair was subsequently settled without any loss to Lincoln. 

The death of this good man took place on the 9th of 
May, 1810, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. He de- 
parted, as became one whose life was nobly spent, with all 
the composure of a man, and all the faith of a Christian. He 
was followed to the grave by many who had borne with him 
tlie burden and the heat of the Revolution, and by a long 
concourse of relatives and friends. In his native town 
and its vicinity, and throughout the state of Massachusetts, 
his name is still held in grateful remembrance. Without 
standing forth in the history of our country prominent for 
any one brilliant deed or striking endowment, those who 
have followed our brief sketch of his life must feel the 
worth both of his services and of his character. As we 
said at the beginning, he was eminently a man for the 
times in which he lived. Strong good sense, a clear 
judgment, inflexible honesty, a firm will, untiring energy 
and vigour in practical aflairs, and a genial and generous 
heart, were in him combined and balanced in happy pro- 
portion, less frequent if less likely to arrest a superficial 
observation than a great predominance of any one of these 
gifts. As a soldier, as a politician, and as a man, he lived 
an eventful and an honourable life. Amidst difficulties 
and defeats, he preserved the respect and confidence of the 
country, and passed through the most trying situations 
without a blot upon his character. Would that in all 
emergencies our beloved republic might find servants as 
honest, capable, and disinterested ! 

General Lincoln married at an early age, and, for more 
than half a century, enjoyed a degree of domestic happi- 
ness which no doubt did much to strengthen him for the 
sterner duties and trials of his life. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 

Thk << Plains of Abraham," and the << Storming of Que- 
bec," are phrases familiar to the youngest child, so often 
celebrated in rude song and made the subject of chivalric 
detail, that in after-life when we read of these things as 
facts of history we can hardly bring our minds to see in 
them the events of but yesterday, and the achievements 
of a late generation. The storming of Quebec under the 
gallant Wolfe wears all the aspect of some renowned 
event, far removed into the romance of history ; and the 
second attempt to carry the place in the same manner under 
oui own no less gallant Montgomery, who had himself 
shared the perils and witnessed the death of the first leader 
against Quebec, has the same aspect of boldness, hardi- 
hood, and chivalry, which lends so much grace to the fate 
of Wolfe. 

Then, when we remember that Montgomery perished 
himself before the same walls, no less beloved, honoured, 
and deplored, the whole assumes the appearance of a 
strange fatality. The ashes of the one were removed to 
England by a mourning people and interred in Westmin- 
ster Abbey ; while those of the other were finally disin- 
terred by a no less appreciating people, and placed under 
a monument in front of St. Paul's Church in the city of 
New York. 

Richard Montgomery was born in Ireland in 1736, At 
the age of eighteen he entered the British army, where nis 
courage and his manly bearing, no less than the energetic 
solidity of his unrlfrstanding, soon rendered him conspi- 
cuous amongst his fellows. We find h'.m early in the 
French war doing good service for king and country, 

183 



(S4 kiCHARD MONTGOMERY. 

active at the siege of Loiiisbiirg, where his coolness, 
capacity, and courage, won the warm approval of Wolfe. 
It is certainly a pleasir.g coincidence that these men, des- 
tined to terminate their career upon the same ground, 
should be thus warmly accordant in sentiment. 

At the termination of the war, Montgomery obtained 
leave to revisit Europe, where he remained nine years, a 
close observer of the aspect of the times. Though little 
is known of him at this period, his readings of the hand- 
writing upon the political wall must have been clear and 
full of noble import, for, in 1772, when the affairs of our 
own country were becoming each day more threatening, 
Richard Montgomery threw up his commission in the 
British army, and sought a home in our newer land, beset 
as we were with difficulties in every shape. 

Arrived upon our shores, he purchased a farm in the 
neighbourhood of New York, and shortly after still more 
strongly cemented the alliance of home and country by a 
marriaoe with the dauijhter of Hobert R. Livinjrston. 
Having removed to Rhinebeck, Duchess County, he de- 
voted himself assiduously to the honourable and primitive 
pursuits of agriculture, a tendency to which occupation 
is in all fine minds an instinctive reminiscence of the de- 
lights once enjoyed by our great first parent Adam in the 
garden of Eden. But a man like Montgomery could not 
well be inactive, as the needs of the times called into pro- 
minent exertion the most eflficient and available men ; 
accordingly we find him a representative of his county 
in the first Provincial Convention held in New York, 1775. 
It will be seen that this was a most stirring period — hos- 
tilities were already commanced between us and Great 
Britain, the time for remonstrance and deliberation had 
expired, and Montgomery, like other good and true men, 
was called into action. 

Congress, in June, 1775, appointed him to the rank of 
bngadier-generai in the Continental array, an homsge ♦» 



EXPEDITION ro CANADA. 185 

ittegrity and worth highly honourable to the recipient, 
for be it remembered, that with all the narrowness of 
views which sometimes characterized the proceedings of 
that remarkable body of men, a narrowness arising from ai> 
unfamiliarity with parliamentary usages and an ignorance 
of the military spirit, they had a thorough and instinctive 
recognition of integrity of purpose, which rendered their 
awards upon that ground the highest possible compliment 

In view of this appointment, Montgomery says, with 
something like foreboding : «' The Congress having done 
me the honour of electing me brigadier-general in their 
service, is an event which must put an end, for awhile, 
perhaps for ever, to the quiet scheme of life I had pre- 
scribed for myself; for, though entirely unexpected and 
undesired by me, the will of nn oppressed people., compelled 
to choose between liberty and slavery, must be oheyed^ 

At the commencement of hostilities between the two 
governments, it became apparent to Congress that the 
Canadas must be reduced, or at least held in such a state 
of abeyance as should prevent the atrocities likely to fol- 
low from the alliance of the Indians of the frontier with 
our enemies ; the extent of territory exposed also, and the 
facility of invasion from that quarter, made the securing of 
positions there to the last degree important. Accord 
ingly it was determined to invade the country, by two 
routes, the one, by way of the Kennebec, through the 
wilderness of Maine, the command of which was intrusted 
to the then courageous and indefatigable Arnold ; the 
other, by the way of the river Sorel, was devolved upon 
Montgomery. 

The circumstance of Schuyler's illness threw the respon- 
sibility of the Canada campaign entirely upon Montgo- 
mery. He continued to make his way into the country, 
notwithstanding the hindrances of ill-supplied munitions 
of war, marshy and unhealthy districts in which he was 
obliged to encamp, and which caused much sutTerlng in 

16* 



186 RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 

the army, and the mutinous spirit of his trc ops, who, their 
k^rra of enlistment being nearly expired, were indisposed 
to a service which promised to be not only severe but 
protracted. The fortresses of St. Johns, Chamblee, and 
Montreal, finally yielded to his arms, and the still more 
difficult task of ettecting a junction with Arnold before 
the walls of Quebec remained for achievement. 

It was now the beginning of winter, the cold was in- 
tense and his men poorly provided for the inclemencies 
of that rigorous climate. Arnold, after incredible hard- 
ships, had made his way through the forests of Maine, and 
had already crossed the St. Lawrence wdth his hardy 
band early in December. They were now before the 
great keystone of the north, few in number, it is true, bui 
the spirit of the two leaders equal to the most heroic dar- 
ing. Nor were the difficulties with which they had to 
contend slight or few ; they were to invest a place of 
great strength and importance with an inadequate army, 
and these just on the point of mutiny ; their guns were 
scanty in number, and insufficient in size, and they were 
already disheartened by severe cold and protracted 
marches. 

On the 31st of December, 1775, the movement of the. 
troops commenced before daylight upon the Plains of 
Abraham. Montgomery advanced at the head of his di- 
vision round the foot of Cape Diamond, and though the 
whole route was obstructed not only by snow but by the 
ice thrown up by the river, by which the hazards of dou- 
bling the promontory were much increased, the dauntless 
band pushed forward, and carried the first barrier wuth a 
vigorous assault. 

A moment, but a moment of pause, to reassure his self- 
exnaustea" troops, and the gallant Montgomery waved nis 
^■•vord, onward : "Men of New York, follow where your 
general leads !" and he pressed toward the second bar- 
rier, cheering his men, and performing prodigies cf valDur 



HIS DEATH. 187 

There is a rush — a deathlike pause — a merging to and fro 
of armed men — the plume of the gallant leader sweeps the 
snow of the battle-field. The cold December sun came 
forth and looked upon that red waste, and the gallant 
Montgomery, dead, pierced with three wounds. Quebec 
and the Canadas are still the property of the foe. 

The tumult of battle died away, and the enemy, for* 
getting the animosities of war, remembered only the vir- 
tues of the dead — remembered only that a great man had 
sealed his doom under those ill-fated walls, and they 
opened their gates to the mourning train of followers, and 
gave their gallant enemy, one most worthy of their steel, 
a tranquil and temporary resting-place till peace should 
once more return to our borders. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN WHITCOMB. 

John Whitcomb, of Massachusetts, served with dis- 
tinction in the " old French war," and was not called into 
service at the opening of the Revolution, on account of 
his advanced age ; but the soldiers of his regiment were so 
attached to him that they resolved not to enlist under any 
other officer, and the veteran, failing to succeed by ad- 
dressing their patriotism, proposed es an inducement for 
them to continue in the army to join them in the ranks. 
Colonel Brewer, however, who had been appointed his 
successor, relinquished the command of the regiment, and 
Colonel Whitcomb continued with it at Boston until he 
was made a brigadier-general, in June, 1776, when he 
succeeded General Ward in charge of the troops in that 
ciiy. He was soon after permitted to retire from the 
service, and his ambition was gratified in seeing men of 
d younger race succeed in establishing the independence 
of the country. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOHN CADWALADER. 

John Cadwalader was a native of Philadelphia, and 
B brother of Colonel Lambert Cadwalader, a vakable 
olboor in the Continental service, who, after the close of 
the Revolution, was four years a representative of the state 
of New Jersey in Congress. He sustained a high charac- 
ter in his native citv, was a member of the l^ennsylvania 
Convention in 1775, and had gained great popularity as 
an officer of the nnlitia. In March, 177(5, the Assembly 
appointed him colonel of the second battalion raised in 
that state. But as he had requested the command of the 
Hrst battalion, he declined the appointment. 

At the close of the year 177t), the atl'airs of the country 
wore a serious aspect. The enemy was in possession of 
New York, and had overrun a considerable part of New 
Jersey. The American army hail lost during the cam- 
paign near five thousand men by captivity and death; and 
the few remaining regulars, amounting only to two thou- 
sand, were upon the eve of being liisbanded ; for as yet 
the enlistments were for the short term of only one year. 
GeneralHowe had cantoned his troops in several villages 
on the Delaware, in New Jersey. His strongest post was 
at Trenton, where he had twelve hundred Hessians under 
the command of Colonel Roll. General Washington oc- 
cupied the heights on the Pennsylvania side of the river, 
in full view of the enemy. A few cannon-shot were now 
and then exchanged across the river, but without doing 
much execution on cither side. The two armies lay in 
-hese positions for several weeks. In the meanwhile the 
spirit of lioerty, inflamed by the recital of the ravages 
committed by the British in New Jersey, began to revive 
in every part of the continent. Fifleen hundred assi'.cia- 



BATTLE OF TRKNTON. 189 

tors, — for as yf^t most of the statfs wf-re without militia 
laws, — marched from PhilafJf;lp}iia, undf-r Oerifral Cadwa* 
lader, to n-inforce the army of Washington. This body 
consisted chiefly of citizens of the first rank and character. 
They had been accustomed to the enjoyment of weahh 
and ease. But neither the hardsliips of a military life nor 
the severity of the winter checked their patriotic ardour. 
The affluent merchant and the journeyman tratJesrnan 
were seen marching side by side, and often exchanged 
with each other the contents of their canteens. These 
troops were stationed at Bristol. On the evening of the 25th 
of December, the cornmander-in-chief marched from his 
quarters with his little band of regulars to McKonkie's 
ferry, with the design of surprising the enemy's post at 
Trenton. He had previously given orders to General 
Ewing, who commanded a small body of the militia of the 
(lying camp, to cross the Delaware below Trenton, so as 
to cut off the retreat of the enemy towards Bordentown. 
He had likewise advised General Cadwalader of his in- 
tended enterprise, and recommended him at the same 
time to cross the river at Dunk's ferry, three miles below 
Bristol, in order to surprise the enemy's post at Mount 
Holly. Unfortunately the extreme coldness of the night 
increased the ice in the river to that degree that it was 
impossible for the militia to cross it either in boats or on 
foot. After struggling with the difficulties of the season 
till near daylight, they reluctantly abandoned the shores 
of the Delaware, and returned to their quarters. General 
Washington, from the peculiar nature of that part of the 
river to which he directed his march, met with fewei 
obs-tacles from the ice, and happily crossed over about 
daylight. He immediately divided his force, and marched 
Ihem through two roads towards Trenton. The distance 
was six miles. About eight o'clock an attack was made 
on the picket guard of the enemy. It was commanded 
by a youth of eighteen, who fell in his retreat to the main 



190 JOHN CADWALADER. 

body. At half after eight o'clock, the town was nearly 
surroundecl, and all the avenues to it seized, excej)! the 
one left for General Ewing to occupy. The commanding 
officer of one of the divisions sent word to Washington 
just before reaching the town, that his ammunition had 
been rendered useless, and desired to know what he must 
do. The commander-in-chief, with the readiness that 
was so natural to him in action, sent word to «' advance 
with fixed bayonets." The laconic answer inspired the 
division with the courage of their leader. The whole 
body now moved onwards in sight of the enemy. An 
awful silence reigned through every platoon. Each sol- 
dier stepped as if he carried the liberty of his country upon 
his single musket. The moment was a critical one. The 
attack was begun with the artillery, under Colonel Knox, 
which was supported with sjiirit and firmness. The 
enemy were thrown into confusion in every quarter. One 
regiment attempted to form in an orchard, but were soon 
forced to fall back on their main boily. A company took 
sanctuary in a stone house, which they defended with a 
field-piece judiciously posted in the entry. Captain Wash- 
ington (a relation of the generars) was ordereil to dis- 
lodge them. He atlvanced with a field-piece, but finding 
his men exposed to a close and steady fire, suddenly 
dashed into the door, seized the oflicer by the collar who 
had command of the gun, and made him prisoner. His 
men ibllowed, and the whole company were immediately 
captured. In the meanwhile victory declared itself every- 
where in favour of the American arms, and General Wash- 
ington received the submission of the main body of the 
enemy by a Hag. The joy of the Americans can more 
easily be conceived than described. This was the first 
important advantage they had gained in the campaign, 
snd its consequences were at once foreseen. 

Early in the morning of the 27th of December, 1776, 
General Cadwalader crossed the river from Bristol, with 



HEFUSES A COMMISSION. 191 

fifteen hundred militia, without being informed that Wash- 
ington had re-crossed the Delaware. The enemy at this 
time might have easily cut him off, but the landing in 
open daylight alarmed them, and they began to retreat 
towards Princeton, Cadwalader advancing on the way to 
Burlington. At Bordentown, he waited until the chief 
again crossed the Delaware, and was then directed to 
join the army at Trenton. 

In January, 1777, Washington recommended the ap- 
pointment of a brigadier-general out of each state to 
command their respective troops. He urged the appoint- 
ment of Cadwalader among the first, characterizing him 
as <<a man of ability, a good disciplinarian, firm in his 
principles, and of intrepid bravery." On the 21st of 
February, he was offered a brigadier's commission, but 
preferred to continue in his command under the common- 
wealth of Pennsylvania. In the autumn of 1777, at the 
request of Washington, he assisted in organizing the 
militia of the eastern shore of Maryland. 

Washington contimaed to be very desirous to attach 
Cadwalader to the regular army; and on the 20th of 
March, 1778, writing to him from Valley Forge, he says: 
" Most sincerely do I wish it was in my power to point 
out some post or place in the army, which would invite 
you and fix you in it. We want your aid exceedingly; 
and the public, perhaps at no time since the commence- 
ment of the war, would be more benefited by. your 
advice and assistance than at the present moment, and 
throughout the whole of this campaign, which must be 
important and critical. One thing is certain; a seat at 
my board, and a scjiiare on my floor, shall always be re- 
served for you. But this, though it would add to my 
pleasure, is not the height of my wishes. I want to see 
you in a more imjiortant station." 

In September, 1778, he was appointed by Congress 
brigadier-general and commander of the cavalry. He 



192 JOHN CADWALADER. 

declined the appointment, on the ground that he believed 
the war to be near its close. General Washington had a 
strong personal regard for him and full confidence in his 
military abilities ; and frequently expressed regret at his 
declining the otlice. Cadwalader continued in service, 
however, and participated in the battles of Brandy wine, 
Germantown, and Monmouth, 

After the resignation and disgrace of General Conway, 
being out of employment, he repaired to Philadelphia, 
which the British army had evacuated. His freedom of 
speech and rude manners frequently involved him in 
difficulties with the American officers. For some offen- 
sive remarks in reference to Gei»eral Washington, he was 
at length called to account by General Cadwalader. When 
arrived at the appointed rendezvous, Cadwalader accom- 
panied by General Dickinson of Pennsylvania, and Con- 
way by Colonel Morgan of Princeton, it was agreed by the 
seconds, that on the word being given, the principals 
might fire in their own time. The partit-s having declared 
themselves ready, the word was given, and Conway im- 
mediately raised his pistol and discharged it with great 
composure, but without effect. Cadwalader fireil, and his 
ball entering the mouth of his antagonist, he fell directly 
forward on his face. Colonel Morgan, running to his assist- 
ance, found (he blood flowing from behind his neck, and 
lifting up his hair, saw the ball drop from it. It had 
passed through his head greatly to the derangement of his 
tongue and teeth, but did not inflict a mortal wound. As 
soon as the blood was sufficiently washed away to allow 
him to speak, Conway, turning to his opponent, said, good 
humoredly, "You fire, General, with much deliberation, 
and certainly with a great deal of efifect." The calls of 
honour satisfied, all apparent animosity subsided. 

Cadwalader seems to have regretted his determination 
to decline the rank of brigadier-general, offered to him in 
1777 and 1778, and in a letter to Washington, dated 



DUEL WITH CKNKRAL CONWAY. 193 

20th September, 1780, says: <'I have now reasons to 
wish I had accepted the command given rne by Congress; 
but at that time I conceived that the war was near a con- 
clusion. Many others were of the same opinion, and we 
flattered ourselves with expectations of a speedy peace. 
In this, however, I remember you widely differed in 
opinion. Whatever may be the event, be assured there 
is no person in America more firmly attached to you as 
commander, and to the general cause ; and, should our 
affairs take an unfortunate turn, I shall, to the last, share 
with you the misfortunes of the times." In reply, Wash- 
ington observed — '< To tell you, if any event should ever 
bring you to the army, and you have no command in it 
equal to your merit, nor place more agreeable to your 
wishes than being a member of my family, that I should 
be happy in seeing you there, would only be announcing a 
truth, which has often been repeated, and of which I hope 
you are convinced." 

After the close of the war. General Cadwalader removed 
to Maryland, and was a member of the legislature of that 
state. He died lOlh of February, 1786, aged forty-three. 
He was related by marriage with the family of John Dick- 
inson, and was a gentleman of fortune. His daughter 
Fanny, in 1800, married David Montagu Erskine, after- 
wards Baron Erskine, and Minister Plenipotentiary to 
this country from England. Erskine succeeded to the 
title, as second baron, on the decease of his father, the 
celebrated Chancellor Erskine, 17th November, 1823. 
He has been Minister Plenipotentiary to Bavaria, and his 
seat is at Restormel Castle, in the county of Cornwall, 
once a part of the inheritance of the Dukes and Earls of 
Cornwall. General George Cadwalader, now with the 
United Slates army in Mexico, is a grandson of the revo- 
lutionary general, and the third in succession of the name 
and rank. 

Vol. II. 17 N 



MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM HEATH 

William Hkath was the son of a plain Roxbury 
farmer, who iiilieritod and occupied tl'.e small estate 
planted by his ancestors in 1G36. He was born on 
the 2d of March, 1737, and brought up in the occupa- 
tion of a tiller of the soil, which he continued to pursue, 
when not in the army, until his death. From child- 
hood he delighted in military exercises, and read such 
treatises ujion the art of war as fell within his reach. The 
militia company of Roxbury being disbanded, he went to 
Boston in 1765, ami was enrolleil as a member of the 
"Ancient and Honourable .\rtillery," a corps which was 
organized in \63S, and is still the pride and boast of 
Boston, as the oldest military organization in America, 

The fine martial bearing of Heath attracted the notice 
of the commander of the Sullblk regiment, who recom- 
mended him for the ai)pointment of captain, and he was 
at once commissioueil by Governor Bernard. He was 
subsequently commander of the Moston Artillery Company. 
In 1770 he wrote sundry essays in a newspaper of the ciiy, 
under the signature of "A Military Countryman," on the 
im[)ortance of military discipline and skill in the use of 
arms. Hutchinson succeeded Hernard in the government 
of the turbulent spirits of Massachusetts, and Heath was 
superseded in his command. But it was not long before 
a new power was beginning to set at naught the authority 
of the royal governor. Tiik People undertook to choose 
officers for themselves, and Heath was unanimously ap- 
pomted to command the first company of Roxbury ; and 
when, some time after, the olhcers of the Sull'olk militia 
met to* select a colonel, he was chosen to that olUce. 

1»4 



ORDERED TO THE HIGHLANDS. 19D 

The Provincial Congress of Massachusetts assembled in 
1775 at Cambridge, and proceeded to organize an army. 
Five general officers were appointed, Colonel Heath being 
one of the number. He was also an active member of 
The Committee of Safety. On the 22d of June he was 
ippointed by the Continental (yongrcss, wlii(;h had now 
*ssumed the control of affairs, to be one of their brigadier- 
n^nerals. General Wasliington, the cominandcir-in-chief, 
gave directions for organizing the yet rude and undisci- 
plined army into divisions and brigades, and Heath was 
stationed with his brigade at Roxbury, with instructions 
to perfect them in discipline. In March, 177G, after the 
evacuation of lioston, he was ordered to New York, and 
marched to Norwich, Coimecticut, whence he embarked 
for that city, which it was at that time deemed of great 
importance to defend against the attacks of the enemy. 

The increase of the army rendered the appointment of 
additional general officers necessary, and on the iJth of 
August, when the number was increased, Heath was 
created a major-general. Soon after this time, the con- 
centration of the enemy's forces in the neigiibourhood of 
New York, following the battle and retreat from Long 
Island, suggested the expediency of withdrawing the 
army from that vicinity, to baffle the designs of General 
Howe. A council of officers was called, at which Gene- 
rals Heath, Mercer, Spencer, and Clinton, opposed the 
evacuation of the city, but the majority deciding in favour 
of the measure, (icneral Washington carried it into effect. 

General Heath, as the winter approached, was ordered 
lo take command of the posts in the Highlands, including 
passes on both sides of the Hudson, and forts Constitu- 
tion, Montgomery, and Independence. His division con- 
sisted of Connecticut and Massachusetts troops, and 
Clinton's brigade of New York militia. 

After the fortunate coup de main at Trenton, General 
Washington, anxious to avail himself of the consterna 



196 WILLIAM HEATH. 

tion of the enemy, ordered General Heath to move down 
towards New York, as if with a design to attack the city. 
He moved in three divisions towards New York, and on 
the 18th January, 1777, reached the enemy's outposts, 
near Kingsbridge, where there was some slight skirmish- 
ing, and a few British prisoners taken. But the expedi- 
tion was a signal failure, and subjected General Heath to 
severe censures and no inconsiderable ridicule, when the 
facts became known, that, after drawing up his forces 
before Fort Independence, which was now in the hands 
of the enemy, and summoning the garrison to surrender, 
allowing " twenty minutes only" for their answer, he did 
not attack the fort, when they neglected to notice his per- 
emptory summons, but after ten days retreated from his 
position. General Washington was mortified at the un- 
successful result of the expedition, and in a private letter 
to Heath, informed that his conduct was censured and 
the army "in some degree disgraced." "Your sum- 
mons," said he, " as you did not attempt to fulfil your 
threats, was not only idle but farcical, and will not fail of 
turning the laugh exceedingly upon us."* General Heath 
made the best explanation he could, in a letter, dated 
February 6, addressed to the commander-in-chief, but the 
misfortune was not forgotten until more stirring and im- 
portant events occupied the public mind. 

During the greater part of this and the following year, 
he was employed in Massachusetts, in superintending the 
forwarding of troops and sup})lies, and providing for the 
removal of the prisoners surrendered to Gates at Sarat::>ga, 
from Boston to Charlottesville in Virginia. 

After the removal of Washington's head-quarters to New 
Windsor in June, 1779, General Heath, who had been 
in command at Boston for a short time, was ordered to 
repair to the Highlands, and was placed in command of 

* Sparks's Washington, iv. 307. 



AT YORKTOWN. 197 

Plixoft's, Parsons's, and Huntington's brigades, on the east 
side of the river, with a view to guard against an attack 
upon West Point. Upon intelligence of the destruction 
of Fairfield, Norwalk, &c., by General Tryon and his 
myrmidons, General Heath was ordered to proceed with 
the two Connecticut brigades to counteract his move- 
ments. He afterwards returned to the Highlands, resum- 
ing his former command of the left wing, posted on the 
east of the Hudson, opposite West Point, and had the 
charge at this post after General Washington removed hit 
head-quarters to Morristown. 

In the spring of 1780 General Heath, having been 
appointed by the legislature of Massachusetts to superin- 
tend the recruiting of new levies and procuring supplies 
for tte army, returned to that state, where he performed 
these duties to the satisfaction of the commander-in-chief. 
In July, he repaired to Rhode Island, upon the arrival of 
the French fleet with the forces under Count Rochambeau, 
and expressed himself delighted with the French officers 
and the fine marlial appearance of the troops. After 
remaining some time with the PVench commander, he was' 
ordered to rejoin the army in the Highlands, where he 
remained most of the time until the march of the grand 
army under Washington to the field of Yorktown, where 
the surrender of Lord Cornwallis closed the campaign 
and the war of Independence. 

In April, 1783, Congress ordered the cessation of Los- 
tililies; and the fact is noted in Heath's Memoirs, that the 
proclamation was published in camp on the 19th of April, 
precisely eight years from the day of the battle of Lex- 
ington. After the proclamation was read at West Point, 
ihree loud cheers were giver. l,y the troops, " after which 
a prayer was made by the Rev. Mr. Gano, and an 
anthem {Independence, by Billings,) was performed by 
vocal and instrumental music."* 



• Heath's Memoirs, p. 307. 
17* 



198 



WILLIAM HEATH. 



At the »lose of the war GeiuTal Heath retired to | ri- 
vate life, busying himself with the quiet oceupations of 
his farm at Roxbury. He was elected a senator and 
counsellor and an elector of President, and was president 
of the Electoral College of Massachusetts in 181 2, when 
the vote of the state was given to De Witt Clinton. In 
1793 he was judge of probate for the county of Norfolk, 
and in 180G, was chosen lieutenant governor, but declined 
the office, and refused to be qualified. He died at his 
seat in Roxbury, January '24th, 1814, aged 77. General 
Heath was a sincere patriot, and although not a great 
general, was an honest and upright man. He published, 
in 1798, a volume entitled "Memoirs of Major-General 
Heath : containing Anecdotes, Details of Skirmishes, Bat- 
tles, and other Military Events, during the Ame^^can 
War, Written by Himself." 

The Marquis de Chastellux thus ch^scribes General 
Heath, in his "Travels:" "His countenance is noble 
and open ; and his bald heail, as well as his corpulence, 
give him a striking resemblance to the late Lord Granby. 
He writes well, and with case ; has great sensibility of 
mind, anil a frank and amiable character; in short, if he 
has not been in the way of displaying his talents in action, 
it may be at least asserted, that he is well adapted to the 

business of the cabinet During his stay at 

Newport, he lived honourably and in great friendship- 
with all the French olhcers. In the month of September, 
General Washington, on discovering the treason of Arnold, 
sent for him, aiul gave him the command of West Point, 
a mark of confidence the more honourable, as none but 
die honestest of men was proper to succeed, in this com- 
mand, the basest of all traitors."* 



• Voyages dans L'Amcriquc Septcntr. lorn. i. 78 



r 



MAJOR-GKNKRAL JOHN THOMAS. 

When the measures pursued by the British government 
left it no lonf^er doubtful that the design was to reduce 
the American colonics to unconditional submission, the 
people began to arm and make preparation for resistance. 
The Provincial Congress of Massachiisetts, two months 
before the battle of Lexington, appointed five general 
officers, to command the forces which they had determined 
to raise. One of their number was Colonel John Thomas, 
who had acquired ntpucation in the French war. 

John Thomas was a native of Marshfield, Massachu- 
setts, where lie was born in 1724. After the preliminary 
education of a common school, he studied medicine, as 
pu|)il of the celebrated Dr. Cotton T'ufts, of Medford. 
He commenced the i)ractice of his profession in his native 
town, but after a few years removed to Kingston, in the 
same state, where he became distinguished as a success- 
fid [)ractitioner, and where he resided, when not connected 
with the army, during the residue of his life. In the year 
1746 he was appointed a surgeon in one of the regiments 
sent to Annaj)olis Royal, and in the following year was 
in the medical staff of Shirley, a i)Ost which he ex 
changed soon after for i«hat of a lieutenant. From this 
position he rose, in 1759, to the rank of colonel of the 
provincials, and was for a time with his corps in Nova 
Scotia. In 1760 Governor Pownall gave him the com- 
mand of a regiment, with which he joined the army 
under General Andierst, at Crown Point. He headed 
the left wing of the detachment sent by General Am- 
herst under Colonel Haviland from Lake Champlain, 
m Aiigust, 1760, to co-operate with the other division 
of the army tnoving agai »st Montreal. He was present 

M>9 



200 JOHN THOMAS. 

when \inherst was joineil by tho foroos from Quebec 
under General Murray, ami when Montreal suriendered, 
at the first summons. This event closed the Seven Years* 
War, during which France and England contended for the 
mastery of North America. 

From this period until the opening of the great drama of 
the Revolution, Colonel Thomas was engaged in the busi- 
ness of his prot'cssion at Kingston. When the first mut- 
terings of the approaching storm were heard, he enrolled 
himself among those who were styled the Sons of Liberty. 
He raised a regiment of volunteers, and on the i)th of 
February, 1775, was appointed a brigadier-general by the 
Provincial Congress. At^er the battle of Lexington, tJeneral 
Ward was maile commander-in-chief, with his head quar- 
ters at Cambridge, and Thomas wasappointeil lieutenant- 
general, and commanded on tiie Roxbury side, in the 
division nearest the Hriiish lines. 

The Continental Congress scxm af\er this assumed the 
control of the army assembled near Boston, and created 
officers to direct their movements. General Thomas was 
entitled to the rank of the first brigatlier. Ward being 
the only major-general assigned to Massachusetts. His 
claims were overlooked, anil precedence given to Pomeroy 
and Heath, both his juniors. He at once witlulrew from 
the command at Roxbury, concluding, as did the heroic 
•Stark on a similar occasion, that he could not with honour 
serve in the army under the c^^'mand of olTicers whom 
he had commanded. 

The withdrawal of GeneralThomas excited a universal 
feeling of regret. He was an able and experienced otficer, 
and greatly beloved by the troops. Many etlbrts were 
made to induce him to continue in the service. Appeals 
were presented in the strongest language to his well-known 
patriotism, to overlook the slight, in consiileiation of the 
perilous crisis which hail arrived. Letters from the Pro- 
vincial Congress, from the field-officers in canip at Roxbury, 
fron) General Lee, and from General W'^ashington himself. 



D O R C 11 F, S T K R H F, f G 11 T S. 201 

were adflressed to General Thomas, nr^'ng hirp to con» 
tiriiif in the service; and at, lenf^h, 1o nrnefly the evil, 
Conr^ress passed a special resolution, that. G«;nerai Thomas 
should have precedence of all the hrigadiersin the army.* 

In the battle of Hunker's Hill, General Thomas trx^k no 
active part, although his post at Roxhury was cannonEctd 
during the whole day. 'i'hat post was maintained, undei 
the belief that the enemy would attempt to take possession 
of Dorchester Heights. From this time until March, 
1776, he remained in command of the camp at Rox- 
bury. On the 4th of that month, with three thousand 
picked men and a sufficient supply of intrenching tools, 
he took possession of Dorchester Heights; and before the 
next morning dawned upon the scene, his works had been 
thrown up, presenting through the hazy atmosphere a 
most formidable a[jpf'Mran<'e to the astonislipfl British in 
Boston. Some of their officers afterwards acknowlwlged 
that the expedition with which these works were thrown 
up, their sudricn and unexpected appearance, recalled to 
their minds those wonderful stories of enchantment and 
invisible agency which are so frequent in the Eastern 
romances. 

Nothing remained for General Howe but to abandon 
the town or dislodge the provincials. With his usual 
spirit he determined upon the latter, and sent down 
towards the Castle a body of two thousand men to land 
and carry the Heights ; but a tremendous storm at night 
frustrated his plans. General Thomas was now reinforced 
with two thousand men, and General Washington soon after 
arrived. He addressed the soldiers in encouraging and 
animating terms, reminding them that it was the anni- 
versary of the iioston massacre, (5th of March,) a day 



• General Washin(?ton, in hiH letter to (^onj^rciw, of the lOtii July, day* — 
« General '/'liomaH Ih much c«tccrncd, and mi«t earneHtly deHired to con 
tiduc in llie service ; and, as far aw rny opportunities have enaOicd me to 
ju(]i;e, I rn.Ht join in the general opinion, that he in an able, gornl olFicer, 
«nd his ro^ignalirtn vould Ite a pulilir, juss." — SparlcH'x Washington, iii. 23 



202 JOHN THOMAS. 

never to be forgotten. An engagement was expeeted, and 
Washington in one of his letters remarks, that he never 
saw better spirits or more ardour prevailing among an}/ 
body of troops. The enemy, however, at a council of 
war held that morning, had determined to evacuate the 
town ; and after various delays, their heavy columns em- 
barked on board their ships on the 17th of March, the 
American troops entering Boston in triumph as the retreat- 
ing enemy pushed from the shores. 

The fall of the gallant Montgomery before Quebec 
rendered it necessary to send an experienced officer to 
the command in Canada. Congress on the 6th of March 
promoted General Thomas to the rank of major-general, 
assigning to him that division. He promptly repaired 
to the camp, where he found the whole effective force re- 
duced to less than a thousand men, three hundred of 
whom, being entitled to a discharge, refused to do duty — 
the small-pox raging among the troops — and the enem} 
receiving reinforcements. He called a council of war 
on the 5th of May, when it was determined that they were 
not in a condition to risk an assault. The sick were re- 
moved to Three Rivers, and the American troops retreated 
from one post to another, until, by the l8th of June, they 
had evacuated Canada. 

Before reaching Chamblee, on the river Sorel, General 
Thomas was attacked by the small-pox, and while waiting 
at that place for expected reinforcements, he died, on the 
2d of June, at the age of fifty-two years. Thacher, in his 
Military Journal, says, "he was held in universal respect 
and confidence as a military character, and his death is 
deeply deplored throughout the army." Eliot, in a note 
to his memoir of Sullivan, says of General Thomas, that 
"he was one of the best officers in the army of 1775. A 
more brave, beloved, and distinguished character did not 
go into the field, nor was there a man that made a greater 
sacrifice of his own ease, health, and social enjoyments.*' 



BRTGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE CLINTON, 

Few names have been more distinguislied in the annals 
of New York than that of Clinton. The ancestor of the 
family who first settled on these shores was James the 
son of William Clinton, who, being an adherent of Charles 
I., took refuge in the county of Longford, Ireland, on the 
execution of that monarch. James, the son, found an 
easier way of escape from the popular fury, by espousing 
the daughter of a captain in Cromwell's army. He was 
the father of Charles, the immediate ancestor of the Ame- 
rican family, who was born in 1690, and emigrated to 
this country in 1729. It has been said that, in addition 
to the perils of a passage which occupied nearly five 
months, the captain had formed the design of starving 
the passengers, in order to seize upon their property. The 
plan was frustrated by a timely discovery, and the pas- 
sengers safely landed at Cape Cod. Here Clinton re- 
mained until 1731, when he removed to Ulster county in 
New York. He was made judge of the county court, and 
in 1756 was appointed lieutenant-colonel, under Delaney 
At the head of his regiment, under General Bradstreet, 
in 1757, he assisted in the capture of Fort Frontenac at 
the mouth of Lake Ontario. He died at his residence in 
Ulster, now Orange Coimty, November 19, 1773, aged 82. 
He is mentioned as a tall, graceful, and dignified person, 
of commanding abilities and great private virtues. Of 
his four sons, Alexander, a graduate at Princeton in 1750, 
was a physician ; Charles, a surgeon in the British army, 
was at the taking of Hav^ana in 1762 ; James was a bri- 
gadier-general in the American Revolution, and George, 
vice-president of the United States. 

Geobge Clinton, the youngest son of Charles Clintoo, 

203 



204 GEORGE CLINTON. 

was born on the 26th of July, 1739. In his education his 
father was assisted by Daniel Thain, a minister from Scot- 
land. In early life he evinced the enterprise which dis- 
tinguished him in after years. He once left his father's 
house and sailed in a privateer. On his return he accom- 
panied as a lieutenant his brother James, in the expedition 
against Fort Frontenac, now Kingston. Thus his early 
education to arms prepared him, like the great Virginian, 
for the scenes in which they were destined to act so im- 
portant a part. The war in America terminated in 1760, 
by the conquest of Canada, and young Clinton laying 
by his sword applied to the study of the law, under the 
direction of William Smith, one of the most able advo- 
cates who had ever adorned the bar of New York. He 
then settled in his native county, where the royal governor, 
George Clinton, acknowledging a remote consanguinity, 
had given him a life-estate in a clerkship. He practised 
with reputation, and 'was chosen a representative to the 
colonial assembly, of which he continued to be an active 
and useful member, steadily opposing every attempt to 
seduce or overawe that body into a compliance with the 
views of the British government hostile to the liberty of 
America. 

Thus, before the controversy grew up into a war, he 
had studied mankind, both in books and in the world, both 
in the closet and in the camp ; and practically knew what 
reliance is to be placed on reason ; what resource can be 
derived from hope and fear: but in reading the sacred 
volumes of our laws he had nourished his soul with the 
principles of liberty, and learned to estimate at their just 
value those rights on the defence of which we staked our 
all. "We felt," said Gouverneur Morris, in his funera 
oration on the death of Clinton, <' our cause to be just, and 
we placed it in the hands of Omnipotence. Such was 
the firm resolve of that first Congress, whose memory 
«vill be sacred and immortal. Such too the perjseveiing 



DEFENCE OF THE HIGHLANDS. 203 

determination of their successors, among whom, on the 
15th of May, 1775, George Clinton took his seat. On 
the 8th of July the members then present signed their last 
petition to his Britannic majesty." 

Mr. Clinton was present and voted for the Declaration 
of Independence, July 4, 1776 ; but in consequence of 
the invasion of New York by the enemy, and the internal 
excitement and trouble caused by the loyalists, he was 
suddenly called home before the instrument was ready for 
the signature of the members, and his name is not attached 
to it. "He had an aversion," says Morris, <<to councils, 
because (to use his own words) the duty of looking out 
for danger makes men cowards. His temper and ear 
hest habits trained him to the field." When General 
Howe, in July, 1776, sent a naval force up the North 
river. General Washington, in a letter to General Clinton, 
urged him to send a party of militia to defend the passes 
of the Highlands. Clinton had anticipated the orders 
of the commander-in-chief by calling out three regi- 
ments of militia, as soon as the signals had been given 
that the enemy's ships were ascending the river. One 
regiment he stationed at Fort Constitution, opposite West 
Point, another at Fort Montgomery, to which he repaired 
in person, and the third at Newburgh, ready to be called 
down to the forts below if occasion should require. He 
had likewise directed several sloops and boats to be assem- 
bled at Fort Constitution, with the design of drawing a 
chain of them across the narrowest part of the river, pre- 
pared to be set on fire if the enemy's vessels should at- 
tempt to break through. Colonel Woodhull commanded 
a regiment of militia under him at Fort Montgomery, and 
his brother, James Clinton, a colonel in the continental 
army, had been stationed for several weeks at Fort Con- 
stitution, superintending the construction of the military 
works in the Highlands. No fortifications had as yet 
been erected at West Point. 

Vol. II. 18 



206 GEORGE CLINTON. 

General Clinton served as brigaclicr-general of the mi- 
litia of New York until tiie 25th of March, 1777, when, 
the state having recommencltHl to Congress that a com- 
mander sliould be named to the posts in the Highlands, 
that station of high trust and confidence was given to him, 
with (he rank of brigadier in Ihe continental army. How 
well he deserved it was evinced by his gallant defence of 
Forts Montgonu'iy and Clinton, on the 6th of October, 
1777, wheii those unfinished fortresses were stormed by 
the British general. Sir Henry Clinton. The defence was 
obstinately maintained by a body Of only six hundred 
men, against a force of three thousand under Sir Henry 
Clinton, from two o'clock until dark, when the enemy, by 
superior numbers, forced the works on all sides. General 
Clinton with many of the Americans escaped under cover 
of the night.* llad the works been complete, or the gar- 
rison suHicient to occu})y commanding positions in the 
rear, the assailants must have failed. As it was, the de- 
fence was such as to induce apprehension in the enemy 
of having their retreat cut ofl' should they remain in the 



• In a journal kept by the lute Dr. Josopli Young is Iho following 
account of the fortuiiato escape of the American coniinantlcrs : " When 
it l)ec;(nie almost certain that they wouKI timilly he ohli;j;eil to suhmit to 
superior numbers, (Jeiieral Jaini-s trieil to persuade his brother Cieorge to 
leave the redoubt, alleging that it wouiil be a greater injury to our cause 
to have the governor of the slate taken prisoner, than if he slioulil fall 
into their hands ; ihcy, however, lioth remained until it grew dark, and 
were mixed with the enemy : the governor escaped in a boat to the east 
side of the river, and James slid down the very sleep bank of a creek 
which ran near tlie ntioubl, and fell into the top of a hemlock tree, and 
made his escape by going up the bed of the lirook, in which there was 
hut little water at that time. When the enemy rushed into the rcdoul)t, 
Colonel McClaughsy and a Mr. James Humphrey, the cock of whose 
gun had been shot otV, turned back to back, and defended themselves des- 
perately ; they were assailed on all sides, and would undoubtedly have 
been killed, hut a Hrilish senator who witnessad their spirit and bravery, 
exclaimed that it would bo a pity to kill such bravo men; they then 
rushed on and seized them, and when tho colonel was brought to th(» 
British General Clinton, ho asked where his friend George was? The 
eolonel replied, 'Thank God, ho is sale beyond tlie tnach (f your friend- 
ship.' " 



CHOSEN GOVERNOR. 209 

> ypel Hudson long enough to make a useful diversion 
\n favour of Burgoyne. That vaunting chief was, there- 
fore, left to his fate, and thus the obstacles opposed in 
the Highlands shed a propitious influence on that Northen. 
campaign, the brilliant issue of which at Saratoga arrayed 
in our defence the armies of France. 

The situation of the state of New York during the wai 
required the exercise of every power of the mind and 
every energy of tlie heart. The ravages and miseries 
which only occasionally visited other parts of the Union 
had hero their permanent abode. Moje than one half of 
the territory was in possession of, or was laid open to the 
enemy, whose immediate policy it was to acquire the 
remainder ; and a large proportion of the inhabitants 
<vere favourable to his views. The few, therefore, who 
continued faithful, were called out at every moment, 
and in every direction, to resist invasion or quell insur- 
rection. The cannon's roar and the savage's yell were 
borne on every breeze. Uncultivated fields, abandoned 
shops, the ruins of burned dwellings, w^ounded the eye 
of pity and filled the sympathetic bosom with anguish, 
horror, and indignation. The patriotic few, assailed by 
danger and pinched by want, were hourly tempted by 
the enemy with insidious ofTers of protection and abim- 
(lance. These were the circumstances under which the 
New York convention closed its labours by publishing 
the Constitution in April, 1777; and under these cir- 
cumstances was George Clinton chosen in the succeeding 
month of June to be both governor and lieutenant-go- 
vernor ; such was the confidence reposed in him — a confi- 
dence unshaken during eighteen years, and attested by 
six general elections. 

The public records of this period witness the extent and 
value of his services. He was a supporter of the federal 
constitution, and presided in the convention at Pough- 
keepsie in June, 1788, upon its ratification. After being 



208 GEORGE CLINTON. 

five yean in private life he was elected to the legislature ; 
and it Hds been said that his popularity and exertions in 
that body and in the state precipitated the great political 
revolution of 1800. Again in 1801 he was chosen go- 
vernor, but in 1804 was succeeded by Morgan Lewis. 
In that year he was elevated to the vice-presidency of the 
United States, in which station he continued till his death. 
It was by his casting vote that the bill for renewing the 
bank charter was negati\ed. He died at Washington, 
April 20, 1812, aged seventy-two. In private life he was 
frank and amiable, and warm in his friendships. That he 
was a man of great energy and decision of character Jhe 
following incidents will sufficiently prove. At the close 
of the revolutionary war, when a British officer had been 
arrested and placed in a cart in the city of New York to 
be tarred and feathered, Governor Clinton rushed in 
among the angry mob with a drawn sword and rescued 
the sufferer. On another occasion, a riot, as violent and 
extensive in proportion as that of Lord George Gordon in 
London, broke out in New York. The untarnished hero 
mingled with the mob, to prevent excess and allay the 
passions of the multitude. Tender of the lives of a mis- 
guided populace, for two days he submitted himself to this 
all-important service, and prevented the subversion of 
private as well as public rights, and the destruction of 
private property. Perceiving that the passions of the mul- 
titude were not to be allayed, the tenderness of a father 
yielded to the duties of a magistrate ; and those whom by 
his remonstrance he could not soften, by his energy and 
authority he instantly subdued. 

In 1786, a rebellion, which threatened a revolution, 
broke out in Massachusetts ; the rebels were discomfited 
and in large bodies fled to Lebanon, New York, a place 
distant one hundred and fifty miles from the city, which 
was then the seat of government and the residence of 
the governor Of this event he was informed, but not 



JAMES CLINTON. 209 

foreseeing the evil, the le^slature (which was then in ses- 
sion) had failed to provide for the emergency, and the exe- 
cutive was without power ; yet so great was the confidence 
of the assembly, and so energetic his action, that in less 
than three days he appeared on the spot with two regi- 
ments of troops and a competent court of justice, and all 
proper officers and necessary characters attendant ; and in 
less than twelve hours the rebel army was dispersed, the 
inactive magistrates dismissed, and the offenders brought 
to punishment. 

Of all the revolutionary worthies, to him alone was in- 
trusted the government of a state and at the same time a 
command in the regular army. So great was the confi- 
dence of the people in his valour and probity that they 
would have invested him with higher and even dictato- 
rial powers had it been necessary for the public good. 
Gifted with a clear and strong mind, which had been 
highly cultivated, he was quick to perceive, prompt to 
execute, and invariably and inflexibly devoted to the wel- 
fare of his country. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES CLINTON. 

James Clinton was the fourth son of Charles Clinton, 
the brother of Governor George Clinton, and the father 
of De Witt Clinton. He was born on the 13th of August, 
1736, at the family residence, in what is now Orange 
county, in New York. 

His natural powers were strong and active, and he 
acquired under the instruction of his father an excellent 
education. He especially excelled in the exact sciences, 
to which his attention had been directed, and for which 
ne had a great predilection ; at the same time, he inherited 
the ardent passion for military life that had distinguished 
18» O 



210 JAMES CLINTON. 

his ancestors, and for which he was qualified by a vigor 
ous frame and the mist intrepid courage. 

In the war of 1756, he was appointed by Sir Charles 
Hardy, then the governor of the province, an ensign in 
the militia, for his native county. Afterwards remain- 
ing in the provincial army, under Lieutenant-Governor 
Delancy, and Lieuf.enant-Governor Golden, he was regu- 
larly advanced through all the grades of military promo 
tion, and in 1774 he attained to the rank of a lieutenant- 
colonel in the second regiment of Ulster. 

These successive appointments proved his military 
merit, and the entire confidence reposed in his skill and 
bravery. After the termination of the French war, Mr. 
Clinton married Miss Mary De Witt, a young woman of 
singular attractions, whose ancestors had emigrated from 
Holland, and whose name proclaims the high respectability 
of the connexion. 

Upon this happy event, he retired for a season from 
the camp to enjoy the repose of domestic life ; but the 
Revolution having commenced, he resumed the duties 
of the soldier, and being appointed, in June, 1775, a 
colonel of the third regiment of the New York forces, 
accompanied Montgomery to Canada. On the 9th of 
August, 1776, he was made a brigadier-general; and 
during the war, in the several stations which he filled, he 
distinguished himself as a gallant and efficient officer, 
performing several acts of the truest heroism, and dis- 
playing the most perfect self-possession in the midst of the 
greatest dangers. His gallant conduct at the storming 
of Fort Clinton, as well as that of his brother George at 
Fort Montgomery, in October, 1777, will be ever memo- 
rable in the history of the Revolution. At this time he 
commanded under his brother. Governor George Clinton, 
at Fort Clinton, which, with Fort Montgomery, separated 
from each other by a creek, defended the Hudson against 
the ascent of the enemy, below West Point. Sir Henry 



HIS MILITARY SERVICE S. 211 

Clinton, in order to favour the designs of Burgoyne, 
attacked these forts, October 6th, with three thousand 
men, and carried them by storm, as they were defended 
by only about six hundred militia. A brave resistance 
was made from two o'clock until it was dark, when the 
garrison was overpowered. General Clinton was severely 
wounded by a bayonet, but escaped. After riding a little 
distance he dismounted, that he might elude the pursuing 
enemy, and taking the bridle from his horse, slid down 
a precipice one hundred feet to the creek which separated 
(he forts. Thus he reached the mountains at a secure dis- 
tance. In the morning he found a horse, which conveyed 
him, covered with blood, to his house, about sixteen miles 
from the fort. 

In 1779 he joined, with sixteen hundred men, General 
Sullivan in his expedition against the Indians. Pro- 
ceeding up the Mohawk in batteaux, about fifty-four miles 
above Schenectady, he conveyed them from Canajoharie 
to the head of the Otsego lake, one of the sources of the 
Susquehannah, down which he was to join Sullivan. As 
the water in the outlet of the lake was too low to float his 
batteaux, he constructed a dam across it, and thus raised 
its level above ; and by suddenly letting it out, his boats 
and troops were rapidly floated to Tioga, where he joined 
Sullivan, who had already ascended the Susquehannah to 
that point. 

During most of the war. General Clinton was stationed 
m command of the northern department at Albany. But 
ne was afterwards present at the siege of Yorktown, and 
the capture of Cornwallis. His last appearance in arms 
was upon the evacuation of the city of New York by the 
British, when he took leave of the commander-in-chief, 
!>nd retired to his estate in Orange county, with the view 
of enjoying that tranquillity which was now called for by 
a long period of privation and fatigue, and that honout 
which was a due reward of the important services be 



21S EBENEZER LARNED 

had rendered. After his retirement he wai still frequently 
called upon for the performance of civil duties — at one 
period othciating as a commissioner, to adjust the bound- 
ary line between Pennsylvania and New York ; at another, 
employed by the legislature to settle controversies rela- 
tive to the western territories of the state ; and at different 
periods, serving as a delegate to the assembly, a member 
of the convention for the adoption of the federal Consti- 
tution, and afterwards a senator from the middle district in 
the New York legislature, to which oiRce he was elected 
without opposition. All these various trusts he executed 
with integrity, ability, and the entire approbation of his 
constituents and the public. 

He died at his residence in Orange county, on the 22d 
of September, lSl-2, the same year that terminated the 
valuable and eventful life of his venerable brother George : 
" par nobile fratrum." In the concluding language of the 
inscription upon his monumental slone, ''Performing in 
the most exemplary manner all the duties of life, he died 
as he lived, without fear and without reproach." 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL EBENEZER LARNED. 

This officer commanded a regiment of the Massachu- 
jetts militia, and was engaged in active service from the 
commencement of hostilities until the spring of 1776. 
After the army removed to New York he became afflicted 
with disease, and in May of that year requested permis- 
sion to retire from the service. He expressed his most 
fervent wishes for the success of the great struggle for 
freedom, and deeply regretted that the nature of his in- 
firmities almost forbade the hope of his being able to 
return to the field. Congress, in 1777, appointed him a 
brigadier-general, and, his health gradually sinking, some- 
time after granted him permission to leave tlie army. 



M.yOR-GENERAL MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

It has been asserted, with how much truth can only 
be judged of by those experienced in the mysteries of 
human nature, that love of equality is inherent in every 
breast. We doubt it. Love of power rnay be, and is. 
No man in this, or in any other country, if he form not a 
rare exception, is willing to be inferior to his neighbour, 
unless that neighbour's superiority is dependent upon na- 
tural gifts, or the accident of circumstances beyond his 
emulation or control. It is this accident of birih, the 
established forms and ranks of the European monarchies, 
acknowledged by all, and felt to be a necessary concomi- 
tant of such governments, which keeps the lower orders 
of society tranquil, and, so far as rank is concerned, con 
tented. When elevated positions are beyond the aspira- 
tion of the lower classes, they seek contentment in that 
sphere in which they have been born. In this country, no 
distinction of classes being acknowledged, every one as- 
pires to be first. That such aspirations produce remark- 
able results, and bring into play the utmost energies of a 
people, cannot be doubted ; but how far they contribute to 
contentment, and to the morale of a people, is a question 
yet to be solved. 

When then we see a roan born to the highest rank in 
a government — a rank claiming and receiving the acknow- 
ledgment of superiority — possessed of wealth which would 
insure him position even without his nobility of title, and 
in the full vigour of youth, capable of enjoying all the 
luxuries and pleasures that an elevated position and riches 
could j)rocure ; when we see such a man devote his mind, 
wea'th and energeis, to the development of an idea, to 

213 



21i MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

the struggle of a principle, which is to establish the riglit 
from the wrong, well knowing thai the victory, if gained, 
must tend to deprive him in a measure of the advantajjes 
he p()ssesses over the greater portion of his fellow beings, 
we may well call him great. Such a man was Gilbert 
Mottier, Martjuis de Lafayette. 

Lafayette was born at Chavaniac, in the ancient pro- 
vince of Auvergne, on the sixth of September, 1757. He 
was of a family the most ancient in France, of the highest 
rank among its nobility. His ancestors for three centuries 
had occupied distinguished posts of honour and respecta- 
bility. His father fell at the battle of Minden, during the 
seven years' war. He lost his mother soon after, and thus 
became an orphan at an early age. He was the heir to an 
immense estate, and but for his peculiar strength of mind 
must have fallen a victim to the numberless allurements 
that aboun*ded in the most luxurious, fascinating and dissi- 
pated of the capitals of Europe. Perhaps his early marriage 
may have contributed in no slight degree to shield him 
from the temptations that surrounded him. He was edu- 
cated at the military college of Duplessis, in Paris, and 
soon after the completion of his studies there, at the early 
age of sixteen, was united in matrimony to the daughter 
of the Duke d'Ayen, of the Noailles family, a lady even 
younger than himself, and who espoused the fortunes and 
cause in which her liege lord had enlisted, with all the 
ardour and devotion of an angel, making herself the 
worthy companion of such a man, avid the sharer of his 
name and glory. The profession of arms was the one 
adopted by most of his associates, there being at that time 
but two roads to distinction open : the one that of the mi- 
litary [irofession, the oiher that of the courtier. Although 
offered a prominent position in the royal household he 
declined the office, choosing the sword of the camp to 
ti\e velvet-covered rapier of the palace. 

At the age of nineteen he was already captain of di3- 



INTEREST FELT FOR THE COLONIES. 215 

goons in the regiment to which he was attached, and was 
Btationed at Metz, a garrisoned town of France. Soon 
after the declaration of independence by the American 
colonies, during the summer months of 1776, the duke of 
Gloucester, brother to (he king of England, happened to 
make a visit to Metz. A grand entertainment was given 
to him by the commandant. To this many officers were 
invited, one of whom was Lafayette. At the dinner the 
duke made mention of news he had just received from 
England relative to the American colonies, and among 
other things, announced their declaration of indepen- 
dence. Interested in such an event, especially as Europe 
had regarded the struggle of these colonies more a? a tu- 
multuous rebellion than an attempt for liberty, Lafayette 
made many inquiries to satisfy himself of the true charac- 
ter of this war, and probably then determined to know 
yet more of the startling effort made by a distant people to 
gain their freedom. His investigations were satisfactory. 
He saw in the Revolution a noble determination on the 
part of an oppressed people to shake offthe yoke of tyranny, 
and his heart warmed with the thought of assisting in such 
a cause. 

He proceeded to Paris. He confided his plans to two 
young friends, officers like himself, Count Segur and 
Viscount de Noailles, who at once consented to join him ; 
but they were obliged to abandon the undertaking, their 
families being unwilling that they should leave France. 
An orphan, he had no controller of his actions ; he wa? 
master of his own movements, and possessed the fortune 
to execute his desires. He consulted other and expe- 
rienced friends, but met nowhere with encouragement. 
On the contrary, every one endeavoured to dissuade him 
from so rash a project, as they considered it. At last he 
met with Baron de Kalb, an officer of some distmclion, 
vho was himself enlisted in the cause of the colonies, 



216 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

which he a few years before had visited in the service of 
the ministry. 

With the aid of De Kalb, Lafayette was introduced to 
Silas Deane, then in France as agent of the United States. 
The truthful picture of the state of our affairs, given by 
this gentleman, had not the effect of lessening Lafayette's 
enthusiasm for the cause. On perceiving this, Mr. Deane 
engaged him for the American service, with the rank 
of major-general, and he had already taken passage in a 
vessel about to be despatched to the United States, 
when the news reached France of the unhappy results of 
the campaign of 1776. This intelligence spread a gloom 
over all the friends of the colonies. The project of send- 
ing the vessel, laden with stores and ammunition, was 
abandoned. The cause assumed a hopeless aspect, and 
every one who knew of Lafayette's intention endeavoured 
to dissuade him from the enterprise. Dr. Franklin and 
Arthur Lee had in the mean time joined Silas Deane as 
commissioners, and even these gentlemen refused to en- 
courage him in going to the United States. But the gal- 
lant young soldier replied, " My zeal and love of liberty 
have perhaps hitherto been the prevailing influences with 
me, but now I see a chance of usefulness which I had not 
anticipated. These supplies, I know, are greatly wanted 
by Congress. I have money; I will purchase a vessel to 
convey them to America ; and in this vessel my com 
panions and myself will take nassage." 

And he purchased this vessel, and sailed from France 
to give his aid to a people too poor to offer him even <t 
transport to their shores, and whose contest then had as- 
sumed the most desperate aspect. Nor was the execution 
of his project an easy matter. His government and his 
own family prohibited his dejjarture. His wife alone of 
all his relatives did not reproach him, but approved Uis 
noble design. Pursued by order of the king, LafayetU 



LANDS AT CHARLESTON. 21T 

Bucceeded, disguised, in reaching Spain, whence he em- 
barked, with eleven otRcers, among whom was De Kalb, 
witn whom ne ever maintained an intimacy. His passage 
was lonrr and tedious, and it was not devoid of danger. 
Had he been less bold of purpose or less armed against ill 
omens, he mjst have yielded to the obstacles that opposed 
him. Fortunately for America and for his own fame, it 
was not so. 

Lafayette and his compatriots landed on the South 
Carolina coast, near Georgetown, at nightfall, and pro- 
ceeded to the first house at hand, which chanced to be 
that of Major Huger. With the assistance of this gentle- 
man, who gladly extended to them every hospitality, 
they reached Charleston, and at once proceeded by land 
to Philadelphia. Without delay, after his arrival, La- 
fayette sent his letters and papers to the chairman of the 
committee of Congress on Foreign Relations, Mr. Lovell, 
who at once stated that so many foreigners were applying 
for offices in the army, while our means of remunerating 
them were so exhausted, that he doubted whether he 
could obtain a commission. Nothing daunted, Lafayette 
addressed a letter to the president, stating that he asked 
but permission to serve in the ranks as a volunteer, and 
that he looked for no remuneration for his services. His 
letters were at once examined, and when his connexions, 
rank, and wealth, and the manner in which he had suc- 
ceeded in gaining our shores, despite the obstacles that 
surrounded him, were made known, without hesitation he 
received the commission of a major-general in the army. 
Lafayette at that time lacked one month of being twenty 
years of age. 

Thus, by that persevering spirit which had enabled him 
to vanquish all opposition at home, and by that ingenuous- 
ness of disposition which he had evinced in his brief ca- 
reer, he was at once raised to companionship with the 
choice spirits of our revohitionary army — Washington 

V ,1, Tf. 19 



218 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

Greene, Stark, Putnam, Lincoln, and others. His inrro- 
duction to Washington took phice at a dinner-party, where 
he so far succeeded in gaining the good opinion of the 
commander-in-chief that he was invited by him to make 
the headquarters of the army his home. His commission 
was dated July 31, 1777, but he did not receive a com- 
mand for several months afterwards. On the eleventh 
of September, 1777, being still without orders, he joined 
the army as a volunteer and fought in the battle of Brandy- 
wine. His impetuosity led him into the thickest of the 
battle and to rash exposure of his life, but he also exhi- 
bited coolness and ability. When our troops commenced 
their disorderly retreat he dismounted from his horse and 
descended to the ranks, with the hope of rallying the men. 
In this attempt he was wounded in the leg, unknown to 
himself, nor did he perceive the injury until the blood 
attracted the attention of his aid, who pointed out to him 
his condition. Calling upon a surgeon whom he chanced to 
meet, the bleeding was temporarily staunched and he 
proceeded on to Chester, nor did he allow himself further 
attention until his task was completed. Such was his con- 
duct in his first battle, and thus was he introduced to the 
American service. The effects of this wound prevented 
his further movement for two months. 

In the winter of 1777-8 he was ordered to the command 
of an expedition against Canada. At this time a cabal 
had been formed against Washington, and the expedition 
was undertaken without his knowledge, by express autho- 
rity of Congress. But fearful of being considered one of 
the opposing partisans, Lafayette refused to accept the com- 
mand unless he was to be considered an officer detached 
from W^ashington's army and subject to his orders. Con- 
gress granted him this condition. In such actions he ex- 
hibited his integrity, and secured the confidence of the 
commander-in-chief. The expedition t\'as however aban- 
doned. 



DESIRE TO SERVE HIS OWN COUNTRY. 219 

In the following May he distinguished himself by his 
masterly retreat from Barrenhill, in the face of a greatly 
superior force of the enemy. 

Soon after, the 28th of June, 1778, at the battle of Mon- 
mouth his services were so conspicuous as to elicit the 
thanks of Congress, who also declared their high appro- 
bation of his exertions to appease and conciliate the dis- 
sensions which had arisen between the officers of the Ame- 
rican army and those of the French fleet sent to this 
country under the Count d'Estaing, after our treaty of 
alliance with France on the sixth of February, 1778. A 
consequence of that treaty was a war between England and 
France. This war essentially changed the position of La- 
fayette. He was still an officer under the king, and it be- 
came necessary for him to reinstate himself in his sove- 
reign's good will — which his prohibited expedition to 
America had in a great measure destroyed. 

At the close of the campaign of 1778, he addressed a 
letter to Congress, enclosing one from Washington. In 
this letter, among other things, he says: "As long as I 
thought I could dispose of myself, I made it my pride and 
pleasure to fight under American colours, in defence of a 
cause which I dare more particularly call ours, because I 
had the good fortune of bleeding for her. Now, that 
France is involved in a war, 1 am urged, by a sense of 
my duty as well as by the love of my country, to present 
myself before the king, and know in what manner he 
judges proper to employ my services." He then proceeds 
to ask permission to return to his home for the ensuing 
winter, and to be considered as a soldier on furlough 
He concludes by tendering his services in behalf of the 
American cause in his own country. Congress immedi- 
ately passed resolutions granting him an unlimited '.eave 
of absence, with permission to return to the United States 
whenever his convenience allowed ; and instructed the 
President to write him a letter of thanks, for his zeal in 



220 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE- 

coming to America, and for the signal services which he 
had rendered. They also instructed our minister at the 
court of Versailles to have a sword, with suitable devices, 
presented to him in (he name of the United State;;, in 
token of their esteem and gratitude. 

He reached France on the 12th of February, 1779. 
His reception by the French people was heartfelt and gra- 
tifying, but for a time the court refused to notice him. Its 
reserve, however, was of short duration, and he was ap- 
pointed to a command in the king's own regiment of dra- 
goons, which he continued to hold actively during the 
year. Early in March, 1780, he again returned to the 
United States. Immediately after his arrival, Congress 
noticed, by appropriate resolutions, of the IGth of May, 

1780, this return, and accepted the tender of his services 
with expressions of a grateful character. 

From this time until the surrender of Cornwallis, in 

1781, he was constantly employed in our service. He 
defended Virginia against the depredation of the forces of 
Cornwallis, with masterly military talents and invincible 
spirit. His troops were composed of eastern militia, un- 
used to southern climates, and discontented with the pri- 
vations to which they were subjected. Lafayette found 
desertions from the ranks daily growing more frequent. 
Instead of adopting harsh measures to put an end to such 
occurrences, he appealed to the honour of his soldiers, 
and awakened in them something of his own enthusiasm 
for the cause. But the treasury was empty, and the wants 
of his troops pressing. In Baltimore, he raised sufficient 
means, by his personal responsibilities to merchants there, 
to answer their immediate demands, and, aided by the 
hands of our patriotic countrywomen, su[)plied the clothing 
of which the troops stood in need. 

Lafayette was with Washington when the treason of 
Arnold was made known, and also during his conference 
with the French general Rochambeau. In these trying 



RETURNS TO THE UNITED STATES. 221 

scenes his support and council \yere relied upon, and he 
enjoyed the confidence and esteem of Washington, which 
was not easily earned, nor lightly bestowed. W th the 
surrender of Cornwallis ended the great struggle. There 
was still another year of contention ; but the scene of that 
contention was removed from the field to diplomatic con- 
ferences and negotiations. After the fall of Yorktown, 
Lafayette again petitioned Congress for leave of absence, 
to visit his fiunily in France, which was granted ; and thus 
closed his services in the revolutionary war. 

He returned to his country not unnoticed, nor with 
mere expressions of gratitude and respect, for the signal 
services he had rendered in the cause of liberty. At the 
age of twenty-five he had filled the page of history with 
his actions, and he carried with him the testimonials of a 
nation's esteem and prayers ; he was intrusted with confi- 
dential powers to his government, and with a letter from 
the Congress of a nation in whose creation he had played 
a conspicuous part, recommending him to his sovereign in 
terms of unequivocal praise. 

We must now pursue Lafayette's public career as that 
of a Frenchman, no longer in the service of the United 
States, although ever warmly devoted to their interests. 
France regarded his talents and conduct as worthy of dis- 
tinguishing marks of approbation. For him the laws of 
promotion were set aside. He received the commission 
of major-general in the French army, to date from the sur- 
render of Cornwallis. He still fondly clung to the asso- 
ciations he had formed during his sojourn in this country, 
3ind tenderly cherished the attachments which had sprung 
up with the great spirits of the Revolution. Desirous 
once again of renewing these pleasurable sensations by 
personal interviews, and by once more beholding the 
scenes of his youthful glory, he determined to revisit the 
United States. On the 4th of August, 1784, he landed m 
New York. His journey through the country ivas like the 

19* 



222 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

triumphant march of an emperor. Every legislature, state, 
town, and village greeted him with honours. Congress 
appointed committees to receive him, and tP bid him 
adieu ; and in every way a grateful nation showered upon 
him the most gratifying marks of their love and respect. 
On the 25th of January, 1785, he was again in Paris. He 
had seen the land in whose cause he had bled — he had 
seen a people whom he had aided in throwing off the yoke 
of oppression — he had communed with a young nation, 
who had undertaken the great task of governing them- 
selves, and had left them happy. He returned to his own 
country, to behold it writhing under such inflictions as 
those which had awakened the energies of a few weak 
and scattered colonists in opposition to the most powerful 
of nations. If he had been willing to aid the cause of 
foreigners, he "was now ready to bleed in the struggle of 
his own people. 

The finances of France were in confusion. De Calonne, 
at the head of the treasury department, could no longer 
raise the needed supplies for government by the usual 
royal ordinances. A convocation o^ notables was called — 
a measure unknown for centuries, but now resorted to as 
a forlorn hope. Lafayette was of ihat assembly, which 
consisted of one hundred and thirty-seven persons. These 
were divided into seven sections or bureaux, over each of 
which presided a prince of the blood. Lafayette was in 
the section over which sat the Count D'Artois, younger 
brother of the king, who was subsequently Charles X. 
In this assembly he at once assumed the cause of the 
people. He demanded for them : 

1. The suppression of lettres de cachet, and the aboli- 
tion of all arbitrary imprisonment. 

2. The establishment of religious toleration, and the 
restoration of Protestants to their civil rights. 

3. Personal liberty, religious liberty, and a represeuta- 
Uve assembly of the people. 



DESTRUCTION OF THE B A STILE. 223 

In other words, he demanded the acknowledgment from 
the crown that the people should have something to say 
in the measures and laws by which they were to be 
governed. It was a bold step to take. These demands 
he desired to be carried to the king, as made by him, the 
Marquis de Lafayette. De Calonne was banished, and 
litigation with^ parliament commenced. The convocation 
terminated ; but not until a promise had been wrung from 
the throne to call another. Another was called, and then 
an assembly of the states-general; but, finally, this assera 
bly converted itself into a national convention, forming a 
constitution of limited monarchy, with its royal executive 
hereditary, but with a legislature representing in a single 
body the whole people. This was the first step of the 
Revolution. The concessions made by Louis XVL pro- 
claimed the surrender, virtually, of absolute power in the 
throne. The principles advocated by Lafayette were those 
imbibed in America. Little did he know how far the 
Revolution thus commenced in the best spirit of order 
would lead an excited people, so long deprived of every 
privilege. When in May, 1789, the royal authority had 
dwindled to a name, and the lower classes began to exer- 
cise the power they had so unexpectedly gained, Lafayette 
stepped forward for the preservation of order. The 
National Guard was instituted, and he was made their 
commander-in-chief. But he could do nothing to stem 
the torrent whose flood-gates had been so unexpectedly 
opened. He desired all for the people, but he clung to 
the ill-fated king. Had Louis possessed more firmness of 
purpose, with the aid of Lafayette the tumult might have 
been subdued ; but he lacked every quality required m 
such an emergency. 

On the 12th of July, 1789, the Bastile was demolished, 
its governor murdered, and thus excited that thirst for 
blood which was to know no bounds. On the 2ist of 
January, 1793, the king was beheaded, and the extinctioB 



224 MABQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

of the constitutional monarchy of France completed. We 
cannot follow out the course of the Revolution and its re- 
sults, in detail, but must confine ourselves to the steady 
purpose pursued through all its terrors by Lafayette, in the 
fulfihuent of his great design. From the commencement 
of the troubles, he refused all pecuniary compensation 
for services. There was not an office known to the ancient 
monarchy, nor was there one which was suggested by the 
disorder of the times, that was not tendered him. He 
rejected them all. Personal aggrandizement was not his 
end ; his mind was fixed upon a higher and more noble 
purpose. 

Finding himself after the execution of the king no 
longer able to command the army he had created, beset 
by enemies, denounced in the assembly as a traitor, and 
by that assembly ordered to be arrested, Lafayette had 
jut two alternatives — either to yield himself to their 
authority, or to fly. He chose the latter coarse, but 
in the territory of Liege fell into the hands of the Aus- 
trians, who, despite the peculiar circumstances under 
which he was taken, and those under which he had left 
France, treated him as a prisoner of war. Austria vainly 
endeavoured to enlist him against France, and finally de- 
livered him over to the Prussian government, under which 
he was dragged from prison to prison, and at last confined 
in the dungeons of the fortress of Magdeburg. He was 
immured in a subterraneous vault, damp, gloomy, and se- 
cured by four heavy doors, loaded "with bolts, bars, and 
chains. The story of his confinement is well known ; 
the secrets of his prison have been revealed. Why he 
was thus persecuted is a question that must be asked 
without hope of answer. Upon no grounds recognised 
by civilized nations, can this conduct be defended. La- 
fayette seems to have awakened the hatred of Prussia and 
Austria. When, after the first victory of the arms of 
Brun.«w'ck, an exchange of prisoners was about to take 



PRISONER IN THE CASTLE OF OLMUTZ. 225 

place, he was transferred to the emperor of Germany, to 
avoid his being included in the cartel, ai.d was placed 
in the dungeons of Olmutz, in Moravia. 

On entering this prison he was told that he would be 
shut out from all communication with ihe world ; that his 
name wobld not even be mentioned by his jailors ; and 
that he would only be spoken of in despatches by the num- 
ber of his register. They added, that no intercourse be- 
tween him and his family or friends would be permitted, 
and that to prevent the relief such torture might suggest, 
of self destruction, no knife or fork would be allowed him. 

Thus condemned to a living tomb, it is not surprising 
that his strength failed. He became so feeble, that his 
physician three times declared he could not recover unless 
permitted to breathe the fresh air. The court of Vienna 
replied that he was " not yet sick enough." But they re- 
lented, perhaps alarmed by the universal attention his im- 
prisonment was exciting. He was permitted at last to 
exercise abroad, not, however, without the guard of an 
armed escort. 

The permission thus granted gave occasion for an effort 
to release him, made by Count Lally Tolendal, who che- 
rished a warm regard for him, though opposed to him in 
political sentiments. The count enlisted in the cause 
Eric Bollman, a Hanoverian physician, (subsequently a 
naturalized citizen of the United States,) who visited Ger- 
many for the purpose of discovering Lafayette's place of 
confinement. The first visit was unsuccessful, but a second 
one disclosed the secret. To avoid suspicion he settled 
in Vienna, and, by means of his profession, gained some 
communication with Lafayette. He was joined here by 
A young American, Colonel Huger, son of that Colonel 
Huger under whose roof Lafayette passed his first night 
in the United States, who most gladly offered his assist 
ance. The limits of this sketch will not admit the details 
of the attempt. It did not succeea; and not only was La- 

P 



226 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

fayette sent back to liis cell, but Dr. Boll man and Colonel 
Hiiger were also taken and chained by Ihe neck to the 
floors of separate cells. 

Bollman and Huger, after six months confinement, were 
released through the intervention of Count Metrowsky, a 
nobleman of great influence and generous character, and 
suffered to escape the Austrian dominions. 

The last information Lafayette had received of his wife 
was of her imprisonment in Paris, during the reign of 
Terror. His wife's grandmother, the Duchess de Noailles, 
her mother, the Duchess d'Ayen, and her sister, the 
Countess de Noailles, all sulf'ered upon the scatlold, on 
the same day. She herself was destined to a similar fate, 
but the fall of Robespierre saved her. Her son, George 
Washington Lafayette, just attaining his majority, was a 
subject of intense anxiety, for she dreaded the conscrip- 
tion. Mr. Joseph Russell and Colonel Thomas H. Per- 
kins, of Boston, then in Paris, exerted themselves in his 
behalf and prevailed upon Boissy d'Anglas, a member of 
the committee of safety, to allow him to depart for Ame- 
rica, where he was received into the family of Washing- 
ton. Relieved of this care, and with an American pass- 
port, she proceeded under the family name of Lafayette, 
(Mottier,) to Albona, where she ai rived September 9th, 
1795. Through the kindness of Count Rosemberg, she 
obtained an interview wilh Francis H., the emperor of 
Germany, then a man of twenty-five years of age. With 
her daughters she appeared in the imperial presence, and 
prayed, in vain, to have her husband res'.ored to his ruined 
fortunes, (for his estates had been confiscated under the 
emigrant law,) and to his shattered health. She then 
asked permission to share his sufierings. This was 
granted; but her health sank under the trial ; her frame, 
already weakened by the sufferings she had en4iii'cd, was 
unable to bear up against the privations, the indignities 
aiid pestilence, of Olmutz. She implored one month's 



DELlVEIiED BV NAPOLEON. 227 

leave of absence, to search after health, in Vienna. She 
was told that she might go, if she would, but that she 
could never return. Death was more welcome than such 
a separation, and she remained. She lived to breathe the 
free air of heaven at the side of her lord, but never reco- 
vered from the efTects of this merciless incarceration. 

Nor did the wife alone plead for the release of Lafayette. 
Washington addressed a letter to the emperor ; and 
General Fitzpatrick, seconded by Wilberforce and Fox, 
in December, 1796, on the floor of the House of Com- 
mons, interposed their eloquence in his behalf. All was 
vain. For reasons no one can fathom, though neither a 
prisoner of the law nor of war, he was still held in chains, 
against the appeals of reason, honour, and humnniiy. But 
at length there came to claim his release one who would 
not be denied — Napoleon. He wrung from the empe- 
ror what all appeals, all arguments, all sense of justice had 
failed to obtain. Napoleon restored Lafayette to liberty, 
but scarcely to life ; for his constitution was shattered, and 
his estates had been wasted by the convulsions which had 
shaken the institutions of his country. 

The Directory was still in power, and Lafayette, having 
been included in the list of those outlawed by the emigrant 
act, dared not return. But the Directory soon fell, and 
he was enabled to revisit France. He immediately sought 
the retirement of Lagrange. How changed was France 
to him! The constitution of 1791, which, amid all the 
mockery and splendour displayed upon the anniversary of 
the destruction of the Bastile, he had sworn to support, 
was almost forgotten. He had not been a witness to the 
bloody commotions which had shaken the country mean- 
while, but his penetrating eye quickly saw their effects. 

Notwithstanding his obligations to Napoleon, which he 
always acknowledged, he was still true to the cause of 
constitutional liberty. He voted against making him die 
tator for life. He refused the favours which he heaped 

21* 



228 MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. 

upon Ilif ancient nobility ; he rejected — and was the only 
one who did — the cross of the legion of honour. He 
deemed iA\ these inconsislent with the principles he advo- 
cated. Mr. Jefferson offered him the position of governor 
of Louisiana, then a territory of the United States; but he 
was unwilling to abandon France, and declined the honour. 
He preferred his retirement at Lagrange, with the satisfac- 
tion of being true to the cause he had early chosen, to all 
the rank, titles and advancements that were within his 
reach. Napoleon only ceased to importune when con- 
vinced that Lafayette was resolute in his determination to 
avoid all connection with the government. He lived 
apart from the world, amid his loving family circle, gazing 
from afar at the stupendous changes that were taking place 
f,n politics. 

Napoleon had built up an empire. That empire fell, 
crumbling under its own weight ; and France was threat- 
ened. Then Lafayette again appeared on the theatre of 
action. He proposed to make the representative chamber 
a permanent body, and in secret council urged the abdi- 
cation of the emperor. In these troublesome times he 
■was every where, urging with all his influence, and with 
the still fresh vigour of his mind, measures to secure tran- 
quillity. The restoration followed ; Louis XVHI. took 
possession of the palaces of his ancestors ; but the eye 
sought in vain for Lafayette among the courtiers ; yet 
when the representative system was renewed, he was 
found in the legislature, defending the rights of the people 
and advocating the cause of constitutional liberty. 

His whole course had been watched with intense anxiety 
from this continent, and those Americans who had only 
heard their fathers speak of him, now longed to look upon 
the man, who had withstood the allurements of wealth, 
title, and position, and remained true to the principles he 
had advocated in his youtk. — the principles developed by 
our indenendence. A resolution passed both Houses of 



VISITS THE UNITED STATES. 229 

Congress, inviting him lo these shores. The invitation 
was accepted, but the government vessel tendered him 
was respectfully declined ; and he came over unostenta- 
tiously in a packet ship, landing in New York, on the 15th 
August, 1824. 

His sojourn here, the manner in which he was received 
by the whole nation, is still remembered by many and 
known to all. It is the lot of few to be hailed by a nation 
with such joy and gratitude, with such admiration and 
esteem, with the blessings and prayers of age and youth. 
Such a lot was that of Lafayette. What must have been 
his sensations, on beholding this young country, in whose 
cause he had but a few years before shed his blood, whose 
armies in the hour of need he had clothed, whose future 
no one could then have foretold, no imagination or reason 
conceived ! A new generation had sprung up, and was 
about him ; the free citizens of a land whose destiny was 
onward, whose flag was known in every ocean, and whose 
wealth was uncounted ! He gazed with satisfied pride 
upon the temple of liberty which his hands had helped to 
erect, and cherished the faint hope that his own country 
would one day enjoy the same blessings. Having grati- 
. fied the fond wish of his heart, to renew the associations 
of his youth, he was allowed to depart, accompanied by 
every testimonial of respect a grateful nation could bestow, 
and with the acknowledgment of all he had done to aid 
their infant struggles. 

He returned to France — but not to behold scenes of in- 
dustry, of contentment, or of peace. The rich oppressed 
the poor, the strong trampled upon the weak, until the 
Revolution of 1830 was commenced. Not again was 
France to see the wildest passions sway with bloodthirsty 
appetite the multitude. The people desired to have their 
rights acknowledged — were resolved to be no longer en- 
slaved. The friend of constitutional liberty, who amid all 
changes had stood firm, was looked to for counsel : the 

Vol. II. 20 



230 Cli£V4.LIER DEBORRE. 

nation confided to him its fate. The early friend of Wash- 
ingtor had the privilege, like him, of refusing a crown. 
He fe. t that France was not ripe for the institutions of the 
United States; but he desired to secure to the people an ac- 
knowledgment of their rights, though with a king. From 
the balcony of the Hotel deVille, he presented the French 
nation a man who had been tried in adversity, the duke 
of Orleans, not as king of France — that title was no 
longer to be borne, — Louis Philippe was accepted as tlie 
citizen King of the French. Here ended the great object 
of his life. He glanced at the constitution that was hence- 
forth to govern his country, and lay down to rest — 
oved, respected, crowned with glory as with years — with- 
out a blemish on his fair renown, without a stain upon his 
great career. Even in death he shuns the gaudy palaces 
of the titled dead. Not at Pere la Chaise, but in a ceme- 
tery near Paris, rural and secluded, he sleeps between his 
faithful and heroic wife and his estimable and accom- 
plished daughter; never to be forgotten, if purity of pur- 
pose, ingenuousness of character, integrity of public and 
private life can secure immortality to man. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL DEBORRE. 

The Chevalier Deborre was a French general of thirty- 
five years' service. He was appointed a brigadier in the 
American army, with a commission dated December 1st, 
1776, according to the compact made in France between 
him and the American commissioner. The German bat- 
talion, and three of the Maryland regiments, in the division 
of Major-General Sullivan, were assigned to General De- 
borre. 

In July, 1777, General Deborre captured a tory, under 



RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION. 231 

Circumstances whic-h induced him (o order his immediate 
trial and execution. This summary proceeding, ahhough 
the man may have deserved death, was disapproved by 
General Washington, who, in addressing him soon after 
upon the subject, observed, "Though I am convinced you 
acted in the atiair with good intentions, yet I cannot but 
wish it had not happened. In the first place, it was a 
matter that did not come within the jurisdiction of martial 
law, and therefore the whole proceeding was irregular and 
illegal, and will have a tendency to excite discontent, 
jealousy, and murmurs among the people. In the second 
place, if the trial could properly have been made by a 
court-martial, as the division you commanded is only a 
detachment from the army, and you cannot have been 
considered as in a separate department, there is none of 
our articles of war that will justify your inflicting capital 
punishment even on a soldier, much less on a citizen." 

In the battle of Brandywine General Deborre com- 
manded, in Sullivan's division, the brigade which first 
broke and gave way; and to this occurrence was owing 
much of the ill fortune oTthat battle. 

By a vote of Congress he was immediately recalled 
. from the army, until the charges against him should be 
investiga'ed. At this he took umbrage and resigned his 
commission. 

In his letter to Congress he complained of hard usage, 
averring that he did all in his power to rally his men, 
being wounded in the attempt; and said, "if the Ameri- 
can troops would run away, it was unjust to censure him 
for the consequences." There was some truth, perhaps, 
in this remonstrance ; but by his ignorance of the character 
and habits of the American people, Deborre had rendered 
himself very unpopular in the army, and Congress ac- 
cepted his resignation without reluctance. He soon aftei 
returned to France. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL COUNT PULASKI. 

Poland had long enjoyed a national independence, and 
was, from its antiquity and ancient renown, entitled to re- 
verence. The constitution, however, which had so long 
sufficed to maintain her nationality, wanted the concen- 
trated vigour of an elective monarchy. It was about to be 
tested. The king had died. The electoral diet was as- 
sembled, on the plains near Warsaw, for the purpose of 
choosing another sovereign. At this moment, when the 
land was without a head, Russia, conspiring with Austria 
and Prussia, sent an army to overawe the diet, and to se- 
cure the election of their favourite. These three powerful 
enemies had resolved upon the dismemberment of their 
weak neighbour, and aided by their military force, it is not 
to be wondered at, that their creature was raised to the 
throne. Count Poniatowsky was crowned king, with the 
name of Stanislaus Augustus. 

This league must rest a stain upon these three nations — • 
it was a compact between the strong and powerful, to crush 
the weak and helpless; a conspiracy of the ambitious and 
reckless, to rob an unsuspecting people of their rights as 
men, and to destroy them as a nation. 

At the diet was a noble, Count Pulaski, the staroste, or 
chief magistrate of Warech: a man of high rank, and uni- 
versally est*^emed for his private and public worth. The 
outrage tnus committed upon his country by Russia, soon 
aroused the bitterest indignation. He saw laws passed 
subversive of ancient customs, curtailing the nation's 
rights, and tending to devour her political substance. Re- 
solved to save her, or to sacrifice himself in the attempt, 
he endeavoured to awaken his brother nobles to the neces- 

232 



HIS B 1 K T H. 233 

sity of action. Confederations were formed to this end, 
and steps taken to secure harmonious action against theit 
shameless enemies. Count Pulaski enlisted his two sons, 
Francis and Casimir, the latter being the subject of this 
memoir. Worthy of their estimable sire, they warmly 
espoused their country's cause. The father well knew that 
when once embarked in this perilous undertaking, there 
could be no retreat. If success crowned their efforts, Po- 
land was rescued ; if they failed, he wished to fall, and 
was willins: that his children should be crushed beneath 
the ruins of his country, rather than live to be the slavea 
of Russia, 

Count Casimir Pulaski was born in 1747, and was 
twenty-one years of age when enlisted under his father's 
banner. He had seen some service under the archduke 
of Courland, and was in the castle of Mittau when ihe 
Russians besieged that city. He possessed undaunted 
courage, a readiness of action, and a decision of character 
which f.tted him in an eminent degree for the perilous 
conflict. .What might have been the result of this under- 
taking, had all the nobles been united, it is impossible to 
say ; but divided as they were by jealousies and low am- 
bition, and opposed to such fearful odds, the end was 
easily foreseen. Early in the contest. Count Pulaski was 
taken captive, and his sons did not again see him. He 
paid the penalty of his noble opposition to the enemy, in 
a dunfjeon, where he terminated his life. Francis and 
Casimir, now actuated by a double stimulus — love of 
country, and the desire to revenge a father's death — 
headed the insurrection of their oppressed countrymen, 
and proved themselves worthy of a more triumphant cause. 
Francis fell in battle ; and Casimir, left to contend alone, 
for a long time succeeded in baffling all attempts to bring 
Poland to a state of submission. 

It will be impossible, in the brief outline to be given 
here, to enter upon the details of the struggle. But thia 
20* 



234 CASIMIR PULASKI. 

much may be said, that if devotedness of purpose, fearless 
courage, and a discreet exercise of the little power still 
left at their disposal, could have secured to them a victory, 
then the Poles had triumphed. But wisdom and bravery 
were unavailing; dismembered, her political existence 
taken from her, Poland fell a victim to treachery and 
rapacity. Casimir Pulaski was outlawed; and, no longer 
surrounded by his friends, most of whom had perished by 
his side ; no longer supported by his countrymen, whose 
rights he had struggled to maintain, he saw himself forced 
to leave the land of his birth, where he had buried the 
treasures of his heart — to sever the ties of affection which 
still bound him to his long-loved home. 

Ruhliere, in speaking of this devoted man, says: — 
<« Never was there a warrior who possessed greater dex- 
terity in every kind of service ; Pulaski, by a natural 
ascendency, was the chief among equals." And in refer- 
ring to his own corps, he remarks further — " He had 
scarcely an officer whom he had not rescued iVom the 
hands of the enemy, or from some danger, and who might 
not say that he owed his life and liberty to his commander." 
Again : — " His troop, the most valorous, the most deter- 
mined of those which served the confederation, was like- 
wise the most poor. Casimir Pulaski was reluctant to 
raise contributions. The generosity of his nature rendered 
this necessity odious to him. The little money which he 
could sometimes procure, he expended in paying spies. 
Intrepid in combat, he was gentle, obliging, and sociable ; 
never distrustful where he had once placed confidence, 
and never meddling in the intrigues which embroiled tho 
confederation." 

After he left Poland to seek an asylum among strangers, 
we lose sight of him for five years. It is known, how- 
ever, that he was in Turkey, and was next heard of in 
France. When he went to the latter country cannot be 
ascertained ; but he was there soon after the declaration of 



ARRIVES IN PHILADELPHIA. 235 

independence by the American Congress. . This bold step 
on the part of the colonists at once enlisted his sympathy. 
He beheld in this great effort to cast off the yoke of/ 
an oppressor, a struggle like that in which so recently .he 
had himself been engaged. Determined to contend for 
(hose principles which his own countrymen had been com- 
pelled to abandon, to maintain which he had hazarded his 
life, rank, station, and fame, he resolved to join their 
standard, who were fighting for freedom in the New 
World. He was presented to Dr. Franklin, then our en- 
voy to the court of France, who wrote to General Wash- 
ington — "Count Pulaski, of Poland, an officer famous 
throughout Europe for his bravery and conduct in defence 
of the liberties of his country against the great invading 
powers of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, will have the 
honour of delivering this into your hands. The court 
here have encouraged and promoted his voyage, from an 
opinion that he may be highly useful in our service." 
With this recommendation, he met a cordial welcome. 
He arrived in the summer of 1777, at Philadelphia, and 
joined our army as a volunteer. 

Count Pulaski's abilities had been mainly exercised 
with cavalry. As is well known, during the first year and 
a half of the war, our army had no regular troops of that 
description. In the former wars no mounted force could 
have been used, as the frontiers and our interminable fo- 
rests precluded their efficiency, and this had induced an 
opinion that such an arm of the service could never be of 
much value on the sea-board. General Charles Lee dif- 
fered in this respect from the public, and urged upon Con- 
gress the importance of a dragoon corps. In several cam- 
paigns the want of one had been felt, and upon the or- 
ganization of a new army, at the earnest suggestion of Ge- 
neral Washington, provision was made for four regiments 
of cavalry. The command was offered to General Joseph 
H.eed, but he declined it, so that for a while it was undei. 



236 CASIMIR PULASKI. 

a colonel only. Washington recommended Count Pulaski, 
saying in his letter to Congress, " This gentleman has been, 
like us, ensaged in defending the liberty and indepen- 
dence of his country, and has sacrificed his fortune to his 
zeal for those objects. He derives from this a title to 
our respect, that ought to operate in his favour, as far as 
the good of the service will permit." 

This letter was despatched but a few days previous to 
the battle of Brandywine, in which contest Lafayette and 
Pulaski struck their first blow in that cause which both had 
so gallantly espoused. Being a volunteer he had no com- 
mand, and was stationed near Washington, until near the 
close of the action, when he requested command of the 
chief's body-guard, consisting of about thirty horse, with 
which he immediately advanced towards the enemy, and 
within pistol-shot reconnoitred their movements, bringing 
back intelligence that they were endeavouring to cut off 
our line of retreat and our train of baggage. Washing- 
ton immediately empowered him to gather as many of our 
scattered troops as came in his way, and to use them ac- 
cording to his judgment. He executed this service in so 
prompt and bold a manner as to render essential aid in 
our retreat, fully evincing the courage and discretion which 
had been connected with his name by the European world. 
Immediately after these occurrences. Congress appointed 
him to the command of the cavalry, with the rank of 
brigadier-general. 

In the leading events of the campaign which followed, 
Pulaski occupied a distinguished position. To describe 
in detail his services, would force us into a minute account 
of various battles which are described elsewhere in this 
work. Had our cavalry been a body acting in concert, 
and occupying a distinct position in the line, it would be an 
easy task to point out the services which it rendered. As it 
was, that portion of our force was limited, divided into 
small pa-rtles, and employed upon various duties. In their 



LETTER TO WASHINGTON. 237 

performance, great assistance was given to our array; yet 
they were such as a cursory review must necessarily ex- 
clude ; and we content ourselves with stating, that at 
meeting the enemy on the Lancaster road, near Philadel- 
phia, and in the battle of Gerraantown, Pulaski did all his 
small force enabled him to accomplish, and succeeded in 
gaining the confidence of Washington, which was not easily 
won. When the army went into winter quarters at Valley 
Forge, Pulaski and his cavalry were sent to Trenton, for 
the convenience of procuring forage. At the moment 
of his leaving the main array, he addressed a letter to 
Washington, in which he spoke in an able manner of the 
deficiencies of his command, and of the advantages to be 
derived from an increased cavalry force in harassing and 
holding in check the enemy. He remarks : " The weak state 
of the corps I command, renders it impossible to perform 
every service required. Nay, my reputation is exposed, 
as, being an entire stranger in thf country, the least acci- 
dent would suffice to injure me; yet I cannot avoid 
hazarding every thing that is valuable in life." 

His position at Trenton was a trying one. Forage was 
very scarce, and he was obliged to divide the horses into 
small parties, and distribute them throughout the neigh- 
bourhood. He however applied himself with great as- 
siduity to the discipline and drilling of his troops, as- 
sisted by Colonel Kowatch, a Prussian officer who served 
under him. During the winter he was called into activity, 
and joined General Wayne in an attempt to procure pro- 
visions for the army, and to disperse the foraging parties 
of the enemy, who were distressing the country around 
Philadelphia. 

But Pulaski soon perceived that his situation was an 
unpleasant one, at the head of such a body, and that he 
could not render the aid his wishes and ambition led 
him to hope. His troops were constantly called off in 
«mall detachments, to perform all the various duties foi 



i38 CASIMIR PULASKI. 

which they could be used ; while the officers under him 
expressed dissatisfaction at being made subject to the 
command of a foreigner who did not well understand 
their language, and whose ideas of discipline and cavalry 
exercise differed widely from their own. Unwilling to 
occupy longer a position which began to be offensive to 
his associates, he resigned it, and again joined the main 
army at Valley Forge. While here, sometime in March, 
1778, he proposed to Washington the plan of an independ- 
ent corps, which should be placed under his immediate 
direction. It was approved of by the chief, and Pulaski 
proceeded to Yorktown, where Congress was then sitting, 
to lay it before that body. It met with their approbation, 
and they immediately authorized him to raise and equip 
a corps, to consist of sixty-eight light-horse and two 
hundred foot. This was called PulasJcVs Legion. It was 
intended to enlarge its numbers, if it should prove 
serviceable. It did prove so, especially in the southern 
campaigns, and gave rise to the institution of other legions^ 
favourably known as Lee's and Amand's. 

Unfortunately, the authority to raise this corps gave 
power to enlist deserters and prisoners. At Egg Harbour, 
in an attempt to save the country from the depredations of 
the British, a deserter succeeded in exposing his position 
to the enemy. His vigilance averted the result ; but it 
proved the danger of having such materiel in our service. 
As the season drew towards a close, Pulaski made his 
winter-quarters at Minisink, on the Delaware, in New 
Jersey. Here he seems to have become dissatisfied again. 
He wrote in a desponding vein to Washington, hinting 
at his resignation, and his intention to return to Europe. 
But the commander-in-chief, well knowing the value of 
such an officer, answered these intimations in a manner so 
flattering and kind that he abandoned his purpose, and 
rested content until again called into action. 

The attention of the country was now drawn to the 



INVESTMENT OF CHARLESTON. 23'^ 

soutti, where the British held possession of Savannah, and 
most of the state of Georgia. In February, 1779, Pu- 
laski was ordered thither with his Legion, to join General 
Lincoln On the 11th of May, three days after he entered 
the city of Charleston, General Prevost invested that city. 
In an important sally upon the British forces, he dis- 
tinguished himself in an eminent degree, although the in- 
creasing numbers of the enemy compelled him to retreat. 
His courage, self-possession, and disregard of his own 
safety, gave an inspiring example to his troops, and raised 
the spirits of the people; while the inexperienced soldiers 
felt a new confidence in themselves under the command 
of such an officer. In this affair Colonel Kowatch was 
killed, and several of ihe Americans taken prisoners and 
wounded. The growing numbers of the enemy, and the 
hopelessness of General Lincoln's being enabled to reach 
them in time to rescue the city from the threatening foes 
that surrounded it, induced the greater portion of the in- 
habitants to speak of capitulation. Pulaski, by his argu- 
ments and eloquence, deterred them from such a step, and 
induced the council to inform the British commander that 
all negotiations upon that subject were at an end. Fear- 
ing the rapid approach of Lincoln in his rear, General 
Prevost immediately retreated, convinced that the city 
could not think of holding out any longer, unless positive 
information of Lincoln's coming had been received. 

Pulaski no sooner learned the retreat of the British, 
than he commenced a pursuit, harassing and aimoying 
their rear, and he would have made an attack upon them at 
James's Island, whither they had retreated, had not the 
want of boats prevented the execution of his plans. The 
effect of this campaign in a low marshy country, upon a 
northern constitution, was very severe, and Pulaski was 
forced to return to Charleston on account of his extreme 
ill-health. 

Early in September, while General Lincoln was still at 



240 CASIMIR PULASKI. 

Charleston, news was brought that Count D'Estaing was 
offlhe coast, with a French fleet, and stood ready to as- 
sist him in his contemplated attack upon Savannah. The 
count sent one of his officers to General Lincoln, and the 
plan of operations was determined. Lincoln was to send 
troops with all despatch into Georgia, while the French 
were to land at Beuleau, and form a junction in the 
neighbourhood of Savannah. 

On the march, the ingenuity of Pulaski was applied 
with great success in crossing Fubly's Ferry, where they 
found but a solitary canoe, instead of the boats ordered 
from Augusta. It became necessary to reconnoitre the 
enemy's outposts, on the opposite side of the river, and it 
required at least thirty men to perform tnis duty with 
effect. The canoe was small, but Pulaski directed one of 
his men to cross at a time, with his accoutrements, leading 
his horse swimming by its side. The plan succeeded, 
and the requisite number thus passed over. Captain 
Bentalou commanded the undertaking; and to this officer 
we are largely indebted for many of the facts connected 
with Pulaski's life in this country. Bentalou found the 
enemy had deserted their outposts, and withdrawn into 
the city. While pushing forward towards the town, in 
the night, he was surprised by the voice of Pulaski, who 
had hastened on with the remainder of his legion to aid 
his friend in any possible emergency. 

During the four days that elapsed before the French 
troops arrived, Pulaski was busily engaged in recon- 
noitring the enemy's position, and in attacking their 
pickets. On the sixteenth of September the junction of 
the two armies was formed, and they invested Savannah, 
the French troops occupying the right and the Americans 
the left. 

It will be impossible for us to enter into the minutisB of 
this siege ; it was long and tedious; and Count D'Estaing, 
wearied of his position, and fearful of the effects of the 



HIS DEATH. 241 

climate on his men, was contemplating their withdrawal, 
when a combined assault upon the city was agreed upon. 
The plan of attack was betrayed to the enemy by a de- 
serter from the American ranks, and when our troops ad- 
vanced, they found the enemy prepared to receive them. 
The conflict was bloody and obsiinate. Count D'Estair.g 
led the French column, and in an attempt to cross a 
swamp, to avoid a circuitous route, he received two 
wounds, and was carried from the field. Pulaski, hearing 
of the havoc among our men, and being unable where 
he was to ascertain the position of our forces, called upon 
Bentalou to follow him, and then rushed forward to 
satisfy himself. Being told that Count D'Estaing was 
wounded, and of the confusion which prevailed among 
the French troops in the swamp, in fear that they would be 
disheartened he hurried foiward to anin^ate them by his 
own example and courage ; but, in the attempt, he was 
wounded by a swivel shot, and fell. Bentalou was also 
wounded. Pulaski was left on the field, until his men 
had nearly all retreated ; but some of them returned, in 
the face of the enemy's guns, and bore him to the camp. 
This was a mournful termination to the attack upon Sa- 
vannah. 

With the French fleet was the American brig Wasp. 
Pulaski and Bentalou were taken on board this vessel. 
She remained a few days in the river, and, just as she 
was leaving its mouth, despite the utmost skill of the 
French surgeons, Pulaski sank under the effects of his 
wound, and was consigned to the bosom of the sea. The 
Wasp sailed for Charleston, where appropriate public 
tokens of respect were paid in funeral solemnities by the 
state and municipal authorities. 

Congress voted him 3 monument, and paid the like 
homage to many of the heroes who yielded their lives m 
the cause of liberty. But these votes are the only w itnesses 
that authority has erected to perpetuate thexr names. 

Vol. U. 21 Q 



242 CASIMIR PULASKI. 

Sixty-five years have elapsed, but the country's duty \3 
yet unperformed. In Savannah, there is a column to Pu- 
laski, and another to the memory of Greene ; but these are 
no nation's tributes — they were erected by the citizens of 
Georgia. 

From early youth, Pulaski's energies were devoted to 
he cause of freedom. The hope of rescuing his own 
land from despotism, was the nearest wish of his heart ; 
nor did he desert the cause until hope ceased to be a 
virtue, and farther eflfort the struggle of a madman. Po- 
land was beyond his aid ; and when he saw her expire 
beneath the powerful grasp of a usurper, and felt that she 
was dead, he forsook the scenes where he had buried the 
virgin aspirations of his soul — never to look upon them 
again. He heard of another nation, struggling to attain 
the end he had hoped to secure for his own, and imme- 
diately resolved to lend his aid. He came a stranger to 
these shores, but he possessed the power of winning the 
confidence of those with whom he served. In more than 
one instance did Wasliington publicly commend his mili- 
tary genius and distinguished services; and he ever relied 
upon his judgment, his courage, and fidelity to our cause. 
Pulaski was true to the principles he advocated in his 
youth, and he never ceased to cherish a sincere wish for 
their ultimate success. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM RUSSELL. 

William Russell was made a brigadier-general by 
brevet on the third of November, 1783. He does not 
appear to have performed any services deserving recol 
leciLon during the Revolution. 



MAJOR-GENERAL DUCOUDRAY. 

In the beginning, of the year 1776, Silas Deane, a dele- 
gate in Congress from Connecticut, was sent to France, 
with full powers and instructions to open negotiations 
with the French government for supplies and munitions 
of war. He was also authorized to invite foreign officers 
of approved merit to serve in the American army. Soon 
after his arrival in Paris, he was visited by Monsieur 
Ducoudray, who was adjutant-general of the artillery of 
France, and one of the first engineers in the kingdom. 
He offered his aid to Mr, Deane in forwarding his appli- 
cation to the minister of war for military supplies, and 
proposed himself to join the American army on certain 
conditions. It was known that the French government 
approved these advances on the part of Monsieur Ducou- 
dray, and his proposals were accepted by Mr. Deane. 
According to the arrangement, Ducoudray was to proceed 
to America in a vessel freighted with fire-arms, cannon, 
and other military supplies ; and Mr. Deane agreed, that 
he should have the command of the artillery, and the 
rank of major-general, with the pay of that rank. Before 
he left France, however, Mr. Deane became dissatisfied 
with his proceedings, and wrote on the subject to Con- 
gress. 

When Ducoudray arrived in Philadelphia, and pre- 
sented his agreement with Deane and other papers, they 
were referred to the committee on foreign applications. It 
appeared that he had so constructed his plan that he 
was 10 command the engineers, as well as the artillery. 
General Washington objected to the arrangement, on 
the ground that it would supersede General Knox and 
other valuable American officers, whose services the 

243 



244 MAJOR-GENERAL DUCOUDRAV. 

country could not dispense with ; he expressed also a 
doubt whether so important a command as that of the 
artillery, (the post claimed by Diicoudray,) should be 
vested in any but an American, or one attached by the 
ties of interest to the United States. The affair was sus- 
pended, and, in its progress, occasioned much dissatis- 
faction and difficulty among both the foreign and native 
officers. 

In June, 1777, a report had reached the camp that 
Congress had appointed Ducoudray a major-general, and 
that he was to take command of the artillery. Without 
waiting to have this rumour confirmed from any official 
source, Generals Greene, Sullivan, and Knox, wrote each 
to Congress a laconic epistle, dated on the same day, and 
requesting that, should the fact be so, they might have 
permission to retire from the army. 

The Congress, which had not yet acted upon the ap- 
pointment of Ducoudray, was displeased with the course 
of these olFicers, and immediately resolved, «' That the 
President transmit to General Washington copies of the 
several letters from Generals Sullivan, Greene, and Knox, 
dated July 1st, 1777, with directions to him to let these 
officers know that Congress consider the said letters as 
an attempt to influence their decisions, as an invasion of 
the liberties of the people, and as indicating a want 
of confidence in their own justice ; that it is expected by 
Congress that the said officers will make proper acknow- 
ledgments for an interference of so dangerous a ten- 
dency; but if any of them are unwilling to serve their 
country under the authority of Congress, they shall be at 
liberty to resign their commissions and retire," The report 
was unfounded. Congress having made no such appoint- 
ment, nor, when the letters were written, had the case 
of Ducoudray been brought in a formal manner before 
them. Yet it was called up about this time, and afi;er 
three or four days' desultory debate, it was determined 



CHEVALIER DE LA NEUVILLE. 245 

not to ratify the treaty entered into between Mr. Deane 
and that officer. On the 11th of August, however, 
Ducoudray was appointed inspector-general of ordnance 
and military manufactories, with the rank of major- 
general, and was placed in superintendence of the works 
constructed on the Delaware. While thus employed, he 
accidentally lost his life, on the 1 6th of September, 1777. 
He rode into a ferry-boat crossing the Schuylkill, when 
his horse became restive, and plunged with him into the 
river, and he was drowned before he could be rescued. 
Congress, on the following day, passed a resolution direct- 
ing his burial at the expense of the United States and 
■"vith the honours of war. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL DE LA NEUVILLE. 

In the autumn of 1777 the Chevalier de la Neuville 
and a younger brother arrived in this country, and ten- 
dered their services to the Congress. The Chevalier, who 
had been for more than twenty years an officer, brought 
letters from Lieutenant-General Wurmser, recommending 
him for his zeal, activity, and knowledge, in the French 
service. He also bore high testimonials, addressed to 
General Washington, from the Marquis de Bouilli, go- 
vernor of Martinico, and M. Merlet, quartermaster-general 
of France — all of which were strengthened by favourable 
opinions from Lafayette and General Conway. On the 
14th of May, 1778, he was appointed an inspector of the 
army under General Gates, with promise of rank accord- 
ing to his merit at the end of three months. 

Colonel Neuville proceeded to the head-quarters of 
Gates, and entered upon his duties with zeal, exerting 
himself to improve the discipline of the troops ; but 
though a good officer and strict disciplinarian, he was 
not popular with the army, and failing of promotion to 

21* 



246 CHEVALIER DE LA NEUVILLE. 

tire rank he expected, after six month' service, he applied 
for permission to retire. His request was granted, and on 
the 4th of December, 1778, Congress passed an order 
that a certificate be given him by the President in the 
words following: "M. de la Neuville having served with 
fidelity and reputation in the army of the United States, 
in testimony of his merit, a brevet commission of briga- 
dier has been granted to him by Congress, and, on his 
request, he is permitted to leave the service of these states 
and return to France." General Neuville soon after re 
turned to his duties as an officer in the French armies. 

His brother, Normiont de la Neuville, served two cam- 
paigns with credit, was appointed a major, and after- 
wards lieutenant-colonel by brevet, and returned to France 
near the close of 1779. 

General de la Neuville while under the command of 
Gates formed a strong attachment to that officer, and corre- 
sponded with him after he left the country. In one of his 
letters, written in May, 1779, he says he had applied to 
the ministry for permission to return to America, in vain, 
and were he to go without permission he would lose << the 
harvest of twenty-nine years of service." He announces 
his intention, however, ultimately to return to the United 
States, <<not as a general, but as a philosopher," and to 
purchase a habitation somewhere in the neighbourhood of 
that of his best friend, General Gates. " This," says he, 
«< I write you from the middle of the pleasures of Paris." 
He did not revisit this country, and his subsequent historv 
is lost in the whirlpool of the French revolution. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL BARON- STEUBEN. 

Pn the first day of December, 1777, a French ship 
dropped anchor in the harbour of Portsmouth, New Hamp- 
shire, bearing the person of Frederick William Augustus, 
Baron Steuben. He was a handsome man, with an erect, 
military bearing, and a diamond star upon his left breast, 
the sign of the Order of Fidelity, which he had received 
from Prince Margrave of Baden, and we venture to assert 
that never was that star worn upon a more faithful, or 
chivalric breast. Baron Steuben had been aid-de-camp to 
the great Frederick, of Prussia, having served in the 
"seven years' war" of that sturdy military commander, 
which is itself sufficient proof of the capacity and courage 
of the man before us. He had laid aside the emoluments 
of an ample fortune, rejected the overtures of powerful 
princes anxious to secure the services of so accomplished a 
master of war, and now as he stood upon the deck of this 
humble craft, poor in all but the wealth of a magnanimous 
soul, looking forth upon this New World, poor like him- 
self in all but the greatness of aspiration, think ye there 
was no sinking of the heart in view of the work before 
him.' He had learned the poverty of the country ere 
he came hither; he knew that irregular, undisciplined, 
and half-naked men, were contending for their rights 
against , fearful odds ; he knew that an uncertain rank 
awaited him — the scantiest pay of the soldier ; he had 
learned that baffled, retreating, and disheartened, the army 
was threatened with destruction, and the hopes of men for 
human disenthralment likely to be annihilated for ever. 
He thought of these things in silent grief — for he was but 
one, ana a legion seemed needful to relieve such a land. 

247 



248 BARON steubp:n. 

A shout rang upon the air, another and another, till the 
old hills of New Hampshire, like another "Jura calling to 
the lis'ening Alps," gave back the shout and the cry of 
exulting freempn. The battle of Bennington had been 
fought — .he battle of Saratoga re-echoed the cannon blast, 
and Burgoyne was disarmed of his terrors — his splendid 
army had capitulated. 

Here was indeed hope and promise for the gallant 
stranger who had come to share our destinies. He has- 
tened to offlr himself as a volunteer to Congress, that he 
might serve wherever most needed in the cause of human 
rights. That body at once made him inspector-general in 
the continental army, with the rank of major-general. 
Soon the results of his exact discipline, and nice attention 
to the most minute military points, became apparent in 
the good order, subordination, and economy of the army. 
The pupil of the great Frederick would not allow the 
slightest deviation from military usages, the slightest waste 
of military stores, or the slightest infringement of military 
dignity ; but as a man, as a social man, he was genial, be- 
nevolent, and generous to excess ; severe only as a public 
functionary, he was lenient to the infirmities of all men, 
provided always that no breach of trust was involved, and 
no violation of honour — upon these points he had all the 
spirit and chivalry of the best days of knighthood. Such 
a man, the companion of kings, romantic in sentiment, in- 
different to wealth, yot lavish in expenditure, gentle as a 
child in the social circle, yet like a roused lion when the 
art of war was concerned, could not well be understood 
by a people plain, parsimonious, and keen in their percep- 
tions, who did battle honestly and faithfully for the right, 
yet did so with none of the embellishments of romance, 
or ideal sentiment. 

Steuben often found himself thwarted, mortified and 
disheartened, if such a thing could be, but he bore jp — 
the approval of Washington, Hamilton, and others of th« 



HIS INDIGNATION AGAINST ARNOLD. 249 

great men df the time was steady and warm, and the sol- 
diers under his command soon loved and reverenced him 
as a father. His heart was always in the right phce; he 
had been known to sell his horse that he might not be de- 
ficient in the hospitalities of the camp ; at another time he 
pawned his watch that he might do the same thing, and 
at the removal of the army from Virginia, he divided his 
last dollar with a suffering brother officer; but the star of 
the Order of Fidelity he always kept, and at his death 
ordered it to be buried with him. 

It is not surprising that a man of such unflinching inte- 
grity should regard with abhorrence and contempt the 
traitor Arnold. The bare mention of his name would ex- 
cite him to expressions of rage and disgust, and when 
called upon to sit as one of the court-martial for the trial 
of Andre, the sympathy which, as a man, he naturally felt 
for this victim to the vice of another, could not fail to en- 
hance his indignation against Arnold. Being but partially 
acquainted with our language, he would break away into 
French and German invec ives, at the bare mention of his 
name, often to the amusement and amazement of a by- 
stander. At a review he was one day startled to hear the 
name of Benedict Arnold called over, amongst some new 
recruits — Steuben instantly ordered the man into the front 
rank. Eyeing him sternly for a moment, he was struck 
at the fine bearing of the youth; "Young man," said he, 
" you must change your name — you are too respectable to 
bear the name of a traitor." " What name shall I take, 
general .-'" "Take any other, mine is at your service." 
He did so, and the general made him a christening present 
of a monthly sum of money, and eventually the gift of a 
considerable portion of land. 

Besides the important services, arduous and difficult as 
they must have been, to drill and reduce to order the raw 
militia of a country accustomed to Indian foray, and 
hunter ^roops averse to method, and jealous of pergonal 



250 BARON STEUBEN, 

rights, he prepared a milifary manual which "became of 
great service in the army, and is still used in some of the 
slates. General Washington was fully alive to the great 
services of the Baron, and did not fail often to urge them 
jefore Congress, and his letters to the Baron himself were 
full of the vi'armest testimonies of recognition. The last 
letter this great man ever wrote in a public capacity, pre- 
vious to the disbanding of the array, was addressed to 
Steuben, and is an affecting expression not only of friend- 
ship, but of strong official approval. In return the latter 
was often heard to say, that " after having served under 
the great Frederick, Washington was the only person 
under whom he was willing to pursue an art, to which he 
had devoted his life." The contrast in military appliance 
must have been terrible to the practised eye of Steuben, 
but he had tact, perseverance, and an enthusiastic love of 
freedom, and these are a host both to individuals and 
nations. 

The labours of Steuben opened at Valley Forge, that 
terrible period of suffering to the army, when the snow 
was literally stained with the blood of the barefoot soldiery. 
He declared, in the most affecting terms, that " no Euro- 
pean array could exist a week in such a condition." He 
was obliged to instruct both officers and men in their duty, 
for all were deplorably ignorant. He was ignorant of our 
language, which often caused whimsical mistakes ; yet his 
energy and attention never slackened, and, to the least 
member of the revolutionary array, all were enthusiastic 
in praise of the discipline enforced by Steuben. 

During the Virginia campaign, in which the services of 
Steuben were of the utmost importance, many attempts 
were made to secure the person of Arnold, and the Baron 
was un'iring in his efforts to do so. Every fresh report 
of the outrages committed by this arch traitor upon a de- 
fenceless population, once held as his own co mtrymen, 
provoked anew the indignation of the Baron, and increase 1 



ILL-TREATMENT FROM CONGRESS. 251 

hh desire to bring him to the punishment so richly earned 
by his crimes; in this he was unsuccessful, and, perhaps, 
for the best — for the s'eady, unmitigated abhorrence in 
which his memory is now held, is unrelieved by any recoi*. 
of human sympathy. 

He was present at the surrender of Cornwallis, at York- 
town, where he had command of the trenches. While 
thus occupied in his tour of duty, the negotiations for sur- 
render commenced, and the Baron, true to the nicest 
usages of war, refused to be relieved from his post till 
they were completed ; and there the veteran of so many 
wars remained on duty till all was arranged to the honour 
of the cause in which he was engaged ; and his men had 
the proud satisfaction of being foremost in duty when the 
flag of England struck to that of her victorious colonies. 

At the close of the war, Steuben and Knox were nomi- 
nated to the office of Secretary of War, and the latter re- 
ceived the appointment as his right by citizenship. The 
treatment which Steuben received from Congress, is hu- 
miliating to contemplate ; his claims for remuneration for 
hard and protracted services were but coldly acknow- 
ledged, and never more than partially met. Several of 
the states made him bequests of lands, and New York state 
gave him a large tract in the vicinity of Utica. Upon this 
land Steuben built a log-house ; he gathered his old friends 
about him, and in the practice of enlarged benevolence, 
living in Scythian hospitality, he passed his declining years. 
He had no family, and only such as had shared the hard- 
ships of the camp, or won his esteem by the severest 
manly virtue, could he tolerate about him. He was 
fond of lecturing upon military tactics, and told long 
stories of war and battle-field. He loved to surprise his 
friends with German dishes, dressed in the best style, 
thereby clinging to reminiscences of faderland. He de- 
lighted in agriculture, and the stores of a valuable library 
was a nerpetua.' resource ; while the visits and correspond* 



252 BARON STEUBEN. 

ence oi his former brothers in arms whiled away the long 
hours of declining life. When we have added that his 
religious hopes and aspirations were warm and unfaltering, 
we know not that any new grace can be added to the last 
picture of this truly magnanimous man. 

He died on the 2Sth of November, 1794, aged sixty- 
five. He directed that his body should -be wrapped in his 
military cloak, ornamented with the star he had always 
worn, and interred in the neighbouring forest. He was 
obeyed ; and 

«' He lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him." 

A simple and impressive close to a long life of virtue and 
usefulness, began in courts, amid pomp and despotism, 
and closed in a log-house in the shade of primeval woods, 
blest in the fruition of human freedom. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL DE WOEDTKE. 

The Baron de Woedtke was for many years an officer 
in the army of the King of Prussia, and had risen in that 
service to the rank of major. Coming to Philadelphia with 
strong letters of recommendation to Dr. Franklin, from 
persons of eminence in Paris, he was appointed a briga- 
dier-general on the 16th of March, 1776, and ordered to 
join the northern army, under General Schuyler. He was 
one of the council of officers convened at Crown Point, 
July 7th, when it was resolved, that fort not being con- 
sidered tenable, that the army should retire to the stfong 
ground opposite Ticonderoga, afterwards called Mount 
Independence. This step was warmly opposed by Colonels 
Stark, Poor, Maxwell, and eighteen other inferior officers 
General Woedtke died at Lake George, about three weeks 
after the above council was held at Crown Point and A\as 
buried with the honors due to his rank. 



BRIG. GENERAL THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 

The American Revolution furnished an admirable fiela 
for the patriots of foreign countries who were denied the 
right of straggling for liberty at home. Of the many noble 
spirits who sought our shores for the exercise of this pri- 
vilege, none have been more distinguished by the world's 
applause than the subject of this sketch, Thaddeus 
Kosciuszko was descended from an ancient and noble 
family, in Lithuania. He was born on the 12th of Feb- 
ruary, 1756, and received his education in the military 
school at Warsaw. Prince Czartoriski, discovering his 
talents at an early period, made him a lieutenant of 
cadets and sent him to France, where he studied the art 
of war. On his return to Lithuania he received a captaincy, 
and might have risen to rapid promotion but for a passion 
he conceived for a lady who had already inspired Prince 
Lubomirski with a similar flame. This circumstance 
obliged the presumptuous young captain to leave Poland. 
The warof the American Revolution — the war of liberty — 
made it easy to do so, by furnishing a superior motive, in 
the grateful indulgence of which it was perhaps not 
difficult to subdue the cravings of a humbler passion. The 
studies of Kosciuszko had prepared him as a military man. 
He brought with him science, as well as patriotism, to 
America. His testimonials were of the best description, 
and his pure nature and noble sentiments rendered his 
progress to favour comparatively easy wherever he ap- 
peared. Washington soon distinguished him, and with 
that rare talent which he possessed, of appreciating 
character almost at a glance, he made him an aid, and 
received him as well into his confidence as his family. 

Vol. ir. 22 253 



254 THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 

Kosciuszko was present in several engagements with 
the enemy, and behaved always with spirit and address. 
When Greene was transferred to the command of the con- 
tinental army in the south, Kosciuszko accompanied him 
with the rank of brigadier, doing the duties of principal 
engineer of the army. He particularly distinguislied 
himself at the siege of Ninety-Six, where, under the 
direction of Greene, he planned the approaches, and 
directed all the besieging operations. His reconnois sauces 
were conducted with great boldness, and he narrowly 
escaped, on several occasions, the fire of the enemy, to 
which his cool indifference to danger exposed his person. 
At the close of the war, he left America for Europe, 
carrying with him a high and honourable reputation. He 
received the rank of a general in the American army, from 
the Congress of the United States, and, with the excep- 
tion of Lafayette, was the only foreigner who was ever 
admitted to the American order of Cincinnati. This, 
it must be remembered, was no ordinary distinction for 
one so young. Kosciuszko was not yet thirty years old, 
and the admission into this society argued, not only a 
high estimate of his military endowments, but the posses- 
sion, on his part, of very uncommon qualities of mind 
and character. He returned to Poland in 1786, and, on 
the formation of the Polish army, in 1789 was appointed 
by the Diet a major-general. He declared for the con- 
stitution of May 3d, 1791, and served under Prince 
Joseph Poniatowski. He distinguished himself against 
the Russians in 1792, and at Dubienka, with four thou- 
sand men, repulsed the thrice-repeated assauUs of an 
army of eighteen thousand Russians. The submission of 
the feeble Stanislaus to Catharine, was the signal for Kos- 
ciuszko's withdrawal from the army and from Poland. He 
went to Leipsic, where he acquired under the legislative 
assembly of France the rights of a French citizen. Rut 
he was not 'to remain in exile. Another struggle for 



DICTATOR OF POLAND. 265 

liberty was to be made. The Poles were not as submis- 
sive as their monarch had shown himself, and, becoming 
impatient of the brutal tyra;anies of Russia, prepared for 
a new insurrection. Kosciuszko appeared at Cracow at 
the auspicious moment. On the 24th day of March, 
1794, he was proclaimed Dictator and Generalissimo. 
The sequel proved him worthy of these imposing trusts. 
The country was aroused to arms, the Russian garrison 
was expelled from Cracow, and, with Kosciuszko at theii 
head, the Poles restored the Constitution of the thira 
of May. Kosciuszko met the Russians at Raczlawice, 
on the 4th of April. His force consisted of but four 
thousand men, while that of the Russians was fully 
twelve. The conflict was very sanguinary, but resulted 
in the triumph of the patriots. The Russians left three 
thousand dead upon the field. This glorious beginning 
encouraged the nation. Poland rose once more upon her 
feet. Warsaw and Wilna declared for liberty, and mas- 
sacred the Russian garrisons. Kosciuszko arrested the 
fury of the patriots, and restored order and government. 
So far his progress had been one of triumph. He was 
now destined to suffer a reverse. On the 6th of June he 
met the Russians and Prussians, numbering seventeen 
thousand men, with less than thirteen thousand. His 
troops were badly armed, and were raised for the emer- 
gency. He was defeated, after an obstinate conflict, and 
retired to his intrenchments before Warsaw. Cracow fell 
into the hands of the Prussians, and Warsaw was be- 
sieged by the united armies of Russia and Prussia, 
numbering no less than sixty thousand men. But Kos- 
ciuszko did not despair — did not suffer his countrymen 
-o despair. Two months of bloody and daily conflict 
brought on a general assault, which he well and wonder- 
lully repelled with a force of ten thousand only. This 
success contributed to the encouragement of his coun- 
trymen. Poland arose under Dumbrowski, against the 



256 THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 

Prussians. The siege of Warsaw was raised, and Ko* 
ciuszko's triumph was complete. His fame was esta^ 
blished for ever, as a great captain and a profound states- 
man. With an army of but twenty thousand regular 
troops, and twice that number of peasants, he had main- 
tained himself successfully through the campaign against 
four hostile armies, numbering altogether one hundred 
and fifty thousand men. He had the hearts of the people 
in his keeping. They gave him all their confidence, and 
armed as well with their afl'ections as with their soldiery, 
it is scarcely to be wondered at that he was so successful. 
He was truly the patriot, and had evidently modelled 
himself after Washington. He devoted his whole life to 
his country without a single selfish reservation; and having 
restored justice, order and authority, he returned to the 
supreme council of the nation the power which they had 
confided to his hands. But the conflict was not at an end. 
It was not one likely to end except in the overthrow of 
Polish independence. The odds were too great against the 
Poles. The rapacity of the powers allied against them 
was but too powerfully sustained by their resources. The 
struggle was renewed, and decided only by the over- 
whelming numbers of the invader. This last desperate 
conflict took place on the lOth of October, 1794, at a 
place called Maciejowice, about fifty miles from Warsaw. 
The army of Kosciuszko numbered twenty-one thousand* 
that of the Russians was more than sixty thousand. Thret 
times were the invaders repulsed, but a fourth assault en- 
abled them to break through the Polish lines, and, in the 
fall of Kosciuszko, his dismayed soldiers beheld the fall of 
Poland. Desperately engaged in the final charge, Kosci- 
uszko fell from his horse covered with wounds. ^^ Finis 
Polonice,^^ was his melancholy ejaculation, as he was borne, 
a prisoner, on their pikes, to the camp of his enemy. The 
spirit of the nation sunk in his captivity, and all hla coi>- 



HONOURS BESTOWED ON HiM. 257 

quests were yielded with a rapidity nearly as great as 
that with which they had been made. 

In the completion of their conquests, and under the 
influence of public opinion, the conquerors could afford 
to be generous. Paul the First gave their freedom to the 
noble captives whom Catharine had cast into her dun- 
geons. He distinguished Kosciuszko by marks of esteem, 
which the latter could scarcely acknowledge though unable 
to reject them. The emperor presented his own sword 
to the hero ; but Kosciuszko declined accepting it, saying, 
that "he who no longer had a country, no longer had 
need of a weapon." From that moment he never again 
wore a sword. Paul would have forced on him gifts of 
value, but he declined them, resolute on exile only. He 
made his way to France, next to England, and again to 
America, From the latter country, he enjoyed a pension, 
and here, as in France and England, his reception was 
grateful to his pride, and honourable to the sense of merit 
in the nation. But the heart of the exile was ill at ease, 
and troubled with a sleepless discontent. In 1798, he 
left America for France, His countrymen in the French 
army of Italy presented him with the sword of the great 
John Sobieski. Napoleon would have flattered him with 
the idea of restoring the independence of Poland ; but 
he who had appreciated the ideal of a true lover of 
liberty in a Washington, was not to be deluded by vain 
shows of it under the illusive delineations of a Bona- 
parte, It was in vain that every effort was tried to make 
him exert himself, in provoking, among the Poles, an 
enthusiasm in behalf of the French, He well saw that 
nothing could be hoped for his country from such a 
source, and resolutely continued silent. His name was 
used in an appeal to his countrymen which appeared in 
the "JV/om'/ewr," and which he denounced as spurious. 
Having purchased an estate near Fontainbleau, he lived 
in retirement till 1814. In this year he appealed to 

22* R 



258 THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 

the Emppror Alexander to grant an amnesty to the 
Poles who were in foreign lands, and to give to the 
country a free constitution like that of England. In 
1815 he travelled in Italy, and settled at Soleure in 
Switzerland, the year after. His life was now spent in 
retirement. His cares were those of agriculture, which 
was now his favourite occupation. A fall from his horse, 
over a precipice near Vevay, occasioned his death on the 
16th of October, 1817. In 1818, the Emperor Alexander 
had his body removed, and at the request of the Senate 
it was deposited in the tombs of the Kings at Cracow. 
Kosciuszko was faithful to his first romantic attachment. 
He was never married. From the moment that he ceased 
to hope for his affections, he began to live for his 
country. "Ah !" said he, to one who spoke of his few 
subjects of consolation, "Ah! sir, he who would live 
for his country, must not look for his rewards while he 
lives himself!" He was one of those noble and humane 
spirits which honour the best conceptions of chivalry. 



BRIG. GENERAL MARQUIS DE LA ROUERIE. 

Armand Tufin, Marquis de la Rouerie, was a Breton, 
and entered at an early age into the regiment of French 
guards. His story is in many respects a romantic one. 
After some years of service, he became enamoured of a 
beautiful actress, and in the warmth of his passion offered 
her marriage. The family interposing to prevent the 
alliance, he escaped, and shut himself up in the monas- 
tery of La Trappe, They now sought to overpower his 
passion of love, by opposing that of glory in arms. The 
Bevolation in America had commenced, and tlie fame of 
Washington was spreading throughout France, A held 
was opened in which to acquire glory, as well as to ic 



MILITARY SERVICES. 259 

dulge the national antipathy to England. Arraand sailed 
from Nantes, in 1776, in an American schooner, sent out 
by Dr. Franklin with despatches for the American Con- 
gress, then sitting at Philadelphia. Arriving at the mouth 
of the Delaware, the schooner was surrounded by three 
Enghsh ships of war. Her commander formed the des- 
perate resolution of blowing up the vessel, and requested 
Armand to deliver the despatches in safety, which he 
promptly undertook to do, jumping into a boat, and 
attempting to pass through the British vessels. A shot 
from one of the British ships carried down his boat, but 
Armand saved himself by swimming, and reached the 
shore just as the schooner blew up. He travelled one 
hundred miles on foot to Philadelphia, delivered his 
despatches, and on the 10th of May was appointed a 
colonel in the American army. At his own request, he 
was commissioned to raise a partisan corps of French- 
men, not to exceed two hundred in number. It was sup- 
posed that some advantage would result from bringing 
together in one body such soldiers as did not understand 
the English language. 

General Lafayette, in giving an account to General 
Washington of his march into New Jersey under Greene, 
mentions Colonel Armand as having been with him in a 
successful attack upon the picket of the enemy. He was 
with General Sullivan's division until the summer of 1779, 
when his corps was assigned to the command of Genera] 
Howe. In 1780 it was incorporated with the Pulaski 
battalion. The commander-in-chief then gave him a cer- 
tificate, stating "that the Marquis de la Rouerie has served 
in the army of the United States since the beginning of 
1777, with the rank of colonel, during which time he has 
commanded an independent corps, with much honour to 
himself and usefulness to the service. He has upon all 
occasions conducted himself as an officer of distinguished 
merit, of great zeal, activity, vigilance, intelligence, and 



ARMAND TUFIN. 

bra-very. In the last campaign, particularly, he rendered 
very valuable services, and towards the close of it made 
a brilliant partisan stroke, by which with much enterprise 
and address, he surprised a major and some men of the 
enemy in quarters, at a considerable distance within their 
pickets, and brought them off without loss to his party. 
I give this certificate in testimony of my perfect appro- 
bation of his conduct, and esteem for himself personally." 

In submitting to Congress his remarks on a new 
organization of the army, in 1780, General Washington 
recommends that the partisan corps of Colonel Armand 
should be kept up. " He is an officer," he observes, 
<'of great merit, which, added to his being a foreigner, 
to his rank in life, and to the sacrifices of property he has 
made, render it a point of delicacy as well as justice to 
continue to him the means of serving honourably." 

Although enjoying the entire confidence of the chief, 
Armand was offended at the delay of Congress in his 
promotion, and in February, 1781, he determined on a 
visit to France. On this occasion. General Washington 
gave him letters of recommendation to some of the most 
distinguished men in Paris. He did not, however, con- 
template an abandonment of the American cause ; on the 
contrary, he made it his business to procure while absent, 
clothes, ammunition and accoutrements for his corps, 
which in the mean time was withdrawn from the service, 
for discipline and equipment. 

Colonel Armand returned from France and joined the 
army before the siege of Yorktown. He was in February, 
1782, directed to report himself to General Greene, in the 
southern department. 

In March, 1783, General W^ashington called the atten- 
tion of Congress to Colonel Armand's character, and 
urged his promotion. He had shown an earnest and 
constant zeal throughout the war, and the application had 
Its just efTect. Armand was on the 26th of that monil. 



PROCEEDINGS IN FRANCE. 261 

promoted to the rank of brigadier-general. When he left 
the service, at the close of the war, General Washington 
took occasion to recommend him in the warmest terms to 
the Count de Rochambeau for promotion in France. He 
returned to Bretagne cured of his youthful passion, and 
soon after married a lady of family and fortune suited to 
his rank. In 1788 the minister of war gave him the 
appointment of a colonel of chasseurs. The Archbishop 
of Sens began to effect a scheme of suppressing Parlia- 
ments. The marquis remembered that he had been a gen- 
tleman before he had been a soldier ; that he was a French- 
man, because he was a Breton, and he threw up his 
commission and appeared among his countrymen. He 
attended the assembly at Vannes, when the twelve depu- 
ties were chosen, was selected to be one of them, and 
was afterwards confined in the Bastile, with his col- 
leagues. On his triumphant return to Bretagne, he pro- 
posed an oath, which bound the nobility to permit no 
innovation of the rights and privileges of the province, 
and was the chief means of confirming them in their 
resistance to the revolutionists. The province con- 
tinued to be quiet while Paris was agitated with convul- 
sions, until 1791, when the marquis, with a generous 
enthusiasm, hazarded his life and fortune in the formation 
of a league for the defence of the monarchy and old 
institutions. The limits of this work will not permit 
us to follow him through the intricacies of his political 
life, and we can only add that all his efforts resulted 
in disaster, and that ha himself was saved from the 
guillotine on which his friends suffered, by the quick 
action of a disease Induced by his anxieties and labour* 



(A? 



MAJOR-GENERAL DUPORTAIL. 

Congress having sent instructions to their commis- 
sioners in Paris to procure a few good engineers, they 
engaged four who had held commissions in the French 
army, namely, the Chevaliers Duportail, Laumoy, Radiere 
and Gouvion. These officers came to the United States 
with the knowledge and approbation of the French go- 
vernment, and were the only ones engaged by the express 
authority of Congress. The contract made between them 
and the commissioners was confirmed, and Duportail 
was appointed colonel of engineers, Laumoy and Radiere, 
lieutenant-colonels, and Gouvion a major. In November, 
1777, Duportail was appointed a brigadier-general. 

When the question of an immediate attack on Phila- 
delphia was submitted to the council of officers on the 
24th of November, 1777, Duportail, Greene, Sullivan and 
others opposed the project, and the reasons they offered 
were such as induced General Washington to abandon it. 

Duportail was with the army at Valley Forge during 
the gloomy winter of 1777-8. After the battle of Mon- 
mouth, the enemy having left Philadelphia, he was sent 
by the commander-in-chief to ascertain what defences 
would be necessary to its security, and to plan fortifica- 
tions for the Delaware. He was soon after despatched 
to the Hudson, and drew up a memorial in relation to the 
defences at Fort Clinton which was approved by Wash- 
ington, and was directed with Colonel Kosciuszko to com- 
plete the works at that point. He was also sent in Octo- 
ber to Boston, to take measures for the security of that city 
and of the French fleet against an apprehended attack. 

In October, 1779, we find General Duportail, in com- 
pany with Colonel Hamilton, charged with confidentiu) 

202 



CAPTURE AT CHARLESTON. 263 

despatches to Count d'Estaing, relative to a co-operation 
of the army and the French fleet. M. Gerard, the French 
minister, had held several conferences with a committee 
of Congress respecting a concerted plan of action between 
the French squadron and the American forces. For the 
same object M. Gerard visited the camp and held inter- 
views with the commander-in-chief, to whom Congress 
delegated the power of arranging and executing the 
whole business in such a manner as his judgment and 
prudence should dictate. Various plans were suggested 
and partly matured, but the unfortunate repulse of the 
French and American troops from Savannah and the 
subsequent departure of d'Estaing from the coast, pre- 
vented their being carried into execution. 

Having waited several weeks for the expected arrival 
of the -fleet in the Delaware, General Duportail was 
ordered by Washington to return to the camp at Morris- 
town. He was now directed to survey all the grounds 
in the environs of the encampment, with a view to deter- 
mine on the points to be occupied in case of any move- 
ment of the enemy. 

The engagement of General Duportail having expired, 
Congress in January, 1780, at the instance of General 
Washington, voted to retain him during the war, together 
with the other French officers engaged by Franklin and 
Deane, if it should be consistent with their inclination 
and duty. In March he was sent to join the southern 
army under General Lincoln, at Charleston, and Wash- 
ington thus speaks of him in his letter to that commander: 
"From the experience I have had of this gentleman, 1 
recommend him to your particular confidence. You will 
find him able in the branch he professes ; of a clear and 
comprehensive judgment, of extensive military science; 
and of great zeal, assiduity, and bravery; in short, I am 
persuaded you will find him a most valuable acquisition, 
and will avail yourself effectually of his services. You 



264 CHEVALIER DUPOBTAIL 

cannot employ him too much on every important occasion/' 
Here he was captured by the enemy during the summer, 
but immediate efforts were made by Congress and the com- 
mander-in-chief to effect his release, and with General Lin- 
''oln and others he was exchanged in the month of October. 
In August, 1781, the contemplated enterprise against 
New York having been given up, with a view of attempt- 
ing to retrieve the disasters of the last campaign in the 
south. General Duportail was sent with despatches to the 
Count de Grasse, and was with Washington at the inter- 
view with the French admiral, off Cape Henry, on the 
18th of September. In October he applied for six months' 
furlough to visit his native country, and also begged of 
General Washington to encourage his application for pro- 
motion to the rank of major-general. The furlough was 
at once accorded ; but in reference to the promotion, the 
chief answered, that " the infringement of the rights of 
seniority in so many individuals, and the pretensions of 
some who had particular claims upon the country, con- 
vinced him that his desires could not be accomplished 
but at the expense of the tranquillity of the army." In 
reply, General Duportail said that he was fully aware of 
the difficulties there stated, that it was not his desire or 
intention to interfere with the claims of other officers, 
but he considered his case a peculiar one. He had 
come to America at the request of Congress, and served 
during the whole war, and had thus thrown himself out 
of the line of promotion in France. He requested that 
the commander-in-chief would not at any rate oppose his 
application to Congress. General Washington imme- 
diately transmitted his letter to Congress, and warmly 
seconded his application. On the 16th of November, 
1781, he was appointed major-general. On his departure, 
he was favoured by Washington with a letter expressive 
of the warm attachment he felt for him personally, and 
his appreciation of his high military merits and services. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL ROCHE DE FERMOY. 

Chevalier Matthias Alexis Roche de Fermoy had 
boen several years an officer of merit in the French en- 
gineers, when Congress, on the 4th November, 1776, 
appointed him a brigadier-general, and, after remaining 
for a time in the camp of Washington, he was ordered to 
join the army of the north under General Gates. Here 
he made himself useful during the campaign which fol- 
lowed. In the winter of 1777, he applied to Congress 
to be raised to the rank of major-general, a request which 
that body very promptly declined. Displeased at this 
decision, General Fermoy requested permission to retire, 
and in January following, he had leave to return to 
France. As a mark of respect. Congress appropriated 
money to pay his debts, and to defray his expenses to 
the West Indies. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

William Maxwell entered the army as colonel of one 
of the New Jersey regiments, with which he served in 
the disastrous campaign of 1776, in Canada; and he 
was one of the remonstrants against the decision of the 
council of officers held on the 7th of July in that year, 
to abandon Crown Point. On the 23d of October, 1776, 
he was appointed a brigadier-general, and for some time 
after was employed in New Jersey. He commanded the 
New Jersey brigade in the battles of Brandywine and 
Gtrmantown, and in harassing the enemy on theii 
retreat through New Jersey, after the evacuation of 
Philadelphia. Soon after the action at Springfield, on 
the 23d of June, 1780, he sent in his resignation, which 
was accepted by Congress on the 25th of the following 
month. 

Vol. TT. 23 2fi5 



MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS CONWAY. 

Thomas CoNW A. Y, knight of the order of St. Louis 
was a native of Ireland, and when six years of age, was 
taken by nis parents to France, where he was educated, 
and rose to the rank of colonel in the French service. 
Having formed the design to enter the American army, 
he was engaged by the agent of our government in Paris, 
and on account of his experience was promised the rank 
of adjutant or brigadier-general. 

He landed in Boston early in 1777, with an empty 
purse, and General Heath advanced him money to defray 
his expenses to head-quarters. Arriving at Morristown, 
he exhibited his papers to the commander-in-chief, who 
interested himself in his behalf, and on the 13th of the 
following May he was appointed by Congress a brigadier- 
general, and four regiments of Pennsylvania troops in 
Lord Stirling's division were assigned to his command. 

He was in the battle of Germantown, and by some 
writers is said to have conducted himself gallantly there, 
but his character was already understood by Washington 
who perceived that he sought rather his own promotion 
than the good of the country or the honour of the service. 
When, therefore, Conway urged his friends to secure for 
him the rank of major-general, Washington opposed it, 
as unjust to other officers of equal or superior merit. 

An intrigue against the commander-in-chief was now 
set on foot, in which Conway bore a conspicuous part. 
The declaration from a letter written by him to General 
Gates, that << Heaven had been determined to save your 
country, or a weak general and bad counsellors would 
have ruined it," came to the knowledge of Washington, 

2fifi 



THE CONWAY CABAL. 267 

^no he immediately enclosed it to General Conway, who, 
a few days after, tendered his resignation, which was 
not, however, accepted by Congress. On the contrary, 
he was but a month afterwards elected inspector-general 
of the army with the rank of major-general. This 
showed that a majority of Congress was unfriendly to 
the chief, since the intrigues of Conway were well 
kcnown in that assembly. Washington's views had been 
very pointedly expressed in a letter to Richard Henry 
Lee, dated the 17th of November. After alluding to a 
report that Conway was to be appointed major-general, 
he observes, " It will be as unfortunate a measure as ever 
was adopted ; I may add, and I think with truth, that it 
will give a fatal blow to the existence of the army." 
Nevertheless the appointment was made. Dr. Rush, 
Generals Gates and Mifflin, and others, were concerned 
in this cabal, the object of which was to supersede 
Washington and elevate themselves to the chief places 
in the army. The designs of the faction, however, were 
soon frustrated. After the Canada expedition had been 
abandoned, Conway was directed to join the army under 
General McDougall at Fishkill, and was ere long ordered 
again to Albany, upon which he wrote a petulant letter 
to Congress, complaining of ill-treatment, and asking an 
acceptance of his resignation. The tone of his communi- 
cation was such as his best friends could not excuse. 
His character was at length thoroughly developed even 
to their apprehension, and a motion to accept his resig- 
nation was immediately carried. When advised of this, 
he expressed great astonishment, said it was not his 
ntention to resign, and that his meaning had been mis- 
understood. He proceeded immediately to Yorktown, 
(where Congress was in session,) and claimed to be 
restored ; but the tide had changed, and his explanation 
and request were equally unavailing. 

When Philadelphia was evacuated by *he British he 



268 THOMAS CONWAY. 

repaired to that city, where his free speech and ofTensive 
manners soon involved him in difficulties with the Ameri- 
can officers, and on the 4th of July, in that year, he 
fought a duel with General Cadwalader, one of the 
bravest and most accomplished gentlemen of the time, 
whose ball j^assed through Conway's mouth and the 
upper part of his neck, making a wound which for a 
time was supposed to be mortal. The immediate cause 
of the duel is generally understood to have been some 
observations respecting Washington, to whom, after lin- 
gering several days, he wrote the following letter : — 

a Philadelphia, 23d July, 1778. 
"Sir: — I find myself just able to hold the pen during 
a few minutes ; and take this opportunity of expressing 
my sincere grief for having done, written, or said any 
thing disagreeable to your excellency. My career will 
soon be over ; therefore justice and truth prompt me to 
declare my last sentiments. You are in my eyes a great 
and good man. May you long enjoy the love, venera- 
tion, and esteem of these States, whose liberties you 
have asserted by your virtues. I am, with the greatest 
respect, &c. Thomas Conway." 

This voluntary confession, whether proceeding from 
the reproaches of conscience or a lingering sentiment 
of justice, may perhaps be considered a reparation for 
the personal injuries he had done the commander-in- 
chief, but it will not efface the memory of his attempts 
to sow those seeds of faction, which threatened the safety 
and even the existence of the republic. Contrary to his 
own and his surgeon's expectation he recovered from his 
wound ; but, deserted by his former friends, deprived of 
his rank in the army, and treated by the public with un- 
disguised contempt and indignation, nothing was left for 
him but to leave the country. Before the end of the yeai 
he sailed for France, where he soon after died. 



MAJOR-GENERAL BARON DE KALB. 

When Lafayette left his luxurious home to join in the 
fttruggle of oppressed Americans, he was accompanied by- 
Baron De Kalb, then a brigadier-geaeral in the French 
army. Baron De Kalb was a German by birth, but liad 
gained the name of a brave and meritorious officer in the 
armies of France, and was a knight of the order of military 
merit. On his arrival in this country, he proffered his 
services to Congress, His reputation and valour were 
known, and his aid was gliidly accepted. He was at once 
appointed to the office of major-general, in which capacity 
he joined the main army, and at the head of the Maryland 
division rendered essential services to the cause he es- 
poused. He was deservedly loved and esteemed. 

Of athletic frame and robust constitution, he seemed 
formed for the hardships of war, and for encountering the 
toils of our then rude and toilsome campaigns. He could 
not boast of any especial excellence in mental acquire- 
ments, but he possessed a talent and a knowledge of 
greater use to the soldier: the talent of reading men and 
the knowledge of human nature. His habits of close in- 
vestigation had secured these valuable powers, which he 
knew well how to apply. 

His modes of life were exceedingly temperate : he 
drank nothing but water, and was alike abstemious with 
his food, often living on beef-soup and bread, at other times 
contented with a short allowance of cold meat. He was 
industrious : he rose at early dawn in summer, and be- 
fore day in winter, and devoted himself to writing, in which 
occupation his hurried meals and his military duties alone 
disturbed him. The world has not been favoured with the 
fruits of all these labours. 

23* 269 



270 BARON D E K A L B. 

He won the hearts of all who knew him by his simpli- 
city of manner and amiable disposition, and secured the 
confidence and esteem of every one by the ingenuousness 
of his character. 

He served in the American army gallantly and faithfully 
during three years, and closed his career on the 19th of 
August, 1780, in the forty-eighth year of his age, having 
been severely and fatally wounded on the sixteenth of that 
month at the battle of Camden in South Carolina. This 
last effort of his military career was as brilliant and daring 
as any that graces historical annals. He commanded the 
right wing of the American army. In the commencement 
of this action, the American left wing was charged by the 
British infantry with fixed bayonets. This part of our 
army was composed of militia, who were unable to stand 
the attack, and threw down their arms, flying, precipitately 
from the field. How different the behaviour of the right 
wing! The continental troops here, though inferior in 
numbers to the British, stood their ground manfully, and 
maintained the conflict with great resolution. The British 
had the advantage of superior cavalry, and notwithstand- 
ing the brave example of De Kalb, who encouraged his 
men not only in words but by his deeds, they succeeded 
in gaining the day. It was a severe blow to the Americans, 
who lost their entire artillery, eight field-pieces and two 
hundred wagons, together with the greater part of their 
baggage. But the saddest loss was sustained in the death 
of the gallant De Kalb. In his last attempt to secure a 
viclory, he received eleven wounds and fell. He was 
caught by his noble aid-de-camp, Lieutenant-Colonel Du 
Buysson, who rushed through the clashing bayonets, and 
spreading his own form over that of the prostrate hero, 
received the wounds intended for his fallen commander, 
exclaiming as he fell beside him : «' Save the Baron De 
Kalb ! Save the Baron De Kalb !" On hearing his name, 
the British officers interposed and rescued tlem both from 



LAST HOURS OF DE KALB. 



271 



the farther fury of their men. De Kalb and Du Buysson 
were both taken prisoners ; the former survived but a few 
hours. The British officer who had taken him in charge 
bestowed upon him every attention. As he condoled with 
him in his misfortune, De Kalb extended him his hand in 
gratitude, saying: "I thank you for your generous sym- 
pathy, but I die the death I always prayed for : the death 
of a soldier fighting for the rights of man." 

His last hours were employed in prosecuting the duties 
of his station. He dictated a letter to General Small wood, 
who succeeded to the command of his division. This 
letter is characteristic of the noble heart of him who sac- 
rificed himself to the great cause of liberty ; it breathes 
a sincere affection for his officers and men ; it expresses 
his high admiration for the valour they evinced in the last, 
though unsuccessful effort of the battle ; it recites the 
e:dogy their bravery had extorted from their enemies, and 
concludes with the testimonials of his own gratitude and 
delight for their gallant support in the final conflict which 
cost him his life. When he felt the chilly touch of death 
approaching, he extended his quivering hand to the Cheva- 
lier Du Buysson, his loved friend, now stretched beside 
him, covered with wounds received in the generous effort 
to rescue his commander's life, and breathed to him his 
last benedictions upon his faithful division. He sank 
calmly into eternity, lamented and esteemed by friend 
and foe. 

Many years after his death, General Washington, when 
at Camden, inquired for his grave. After gazing upon it 
for some time, he breathed a sigh, and with an expres- 
sion indicative of the thoughts passing in his mind, ex- 
claimed : " So, there lies the brave De Kalb ; the gene- 
rous stranger who came from a distant land to fight oui 
battles, and to water with his blood the tree of our liberty 
Would to God he had lived to share its fruits ." 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL C. GADSDEN. 

Christopher Gadsden, of South Carolina, was one of 
the few patriots, whose prescience, extending far beyond 
the ordinary range of human vision, beheld in the distance 
the real necessities of America ; and, while the great ma- 
jority demanded nothing more at first from Great Britain 
than a redress of temporary grievances, foresaw that 
nothing less than absolute independence in the end could 
satisfy the wants or subserve the rights and safety of the 
colonies. That we have not an elaborate life of this dis- 
tinguished man, carefully derived from his own papers and 
vvriiings, is sadly illustrative of that neglect with regard to 
our historical resources which has marked our career. We 
cannot hope, in the brief limits of the present biography, 
to amend these deficiencies in regard to our subject. We 
can at best furnish a few brief heads, upon which the un- 
embarrassed admirer may dilate and expatiate hereafter. 

Christopher Gadsden was born in Charleston, South 
Carolina, in 1724. His father was Thomas Gadsden, a 
king's collector, and lieutenant in the British navy. Chris- 
topher received his education in England, where he ac- 
quired the classics. Late in life he studied the Hebrew, 
and made some progress in the oriental languages. At 
the age of sixteen he returned from Europe, and was 
placed in a counting-house in Philadelphia. Here he 
acquired habits of business, and was confirmed in the 
strictness of method and inflexibleness of resolve by 
which, in after periods, his character was particularly dis- 
tinguished. At the age of twenty-one he revisited Eng- 
272 



CHEROKEE EXTEDITION. 273 

land. Returning thence to Carolina as a passenger m a 
raan-of-war, the office of purser was tendered him, on the 
sudden death of the incumbent. Accepting the appoint- 
ment, he continued in it for two years, when he Jeft the 
navy to engage in commerce. Subsequently he be- 
came a planter, and finally a factor. These several pui- 
suits were all urged with the most sustained earnestness. 
It was the nature of Mr. Gadsden to do thoroughly, and 
with his whole soul, whatever he undertook. He set out 
in life with certain fixed principles, as well of actions as of 
morals, to which he adhered steadily throughout his whole 
career. In his youthful associates he was fortunate. One 
of these was the no less distinguished Henry Laurens, 
also of South Carolina, afterwards President of Congress. 
These young men were equally attached to each other by 
modes of thinking and by natural sympathies. They 
strengthened each other by mutual resolves and mutual 
counsels; abjured together the soul- wasting pursuits of 
other young men ; and, by the proper adoption of a few 
well-conceived rules of conduct, to which they held tena- 
ciously, they succeeded in the formation of virtuous 
habits, and of firm, well-constructed characters. 

Mr. Gadsden soon showed himself active in public as 
well as private affairs. In 1759, he was in the expedition, 
with many of the high-spirited young men of the country, 
against the Cherokee Indians, at the call of Governor 
Lyttleton. On this occasion he organized an artillery 
company, of which he was made captain ; and was the first 
to introduce a piece of field-artillery into the colony. In 
this corps we find the nucleus of a battalion, afterwards 
called the " Ancient Battalion," which acquired a local 
celebrity by subsequent good conduct, on various battle- 
fields, which still graciously surrounds its name. The 
company of Captain Gadsden soon proved its usefulness, 
and acquired an early popularity. The expedition of 
Governor Lyttleton, undertaken with many disadvan- 

S 



274 CHBISTOPHER GADSDEN, 

tages, did not terminate satisfactorily. It was an evasion 
of the danger only, and needed other and more decisive 
proceedings to subdue the hostile Indians to a just sense 
of respect and forbearance. But the result w^as favourable 
^o the popularity of Gadsden ; and, without such details as 
would enable us to say, at this moment, by what means 
ie acquired the increasing confidence and admiration of 
fiis associates, it is enough to know, for a certainty, that 
such were his acquisitions. 

Mr. Gadsden soon showed himself far in advance of 
most of his contemporaries, in regard to the relations 
which existed between the colonies and the mother coun- 
try. His feelings were those of a republican, and they 
influenced very considerably the direction of his thoughts. 
He felt — even before he saw — how inconsistent with the 
rights and safety of America were the demands and exac- 
tions of Great Britain ; and was among the first to con- 
ceive the absurdity of a great and growing nation being 
governed by a people who were ihree thousand miles 
away. Such a government not only implied a total want 
of capacity and energy to meet emergencies, but led to 
another discreditable implication against the mind of the 
native, which was quite as ofTensive to his self-esteem as 
it was injurious to his rights. At this early period, and 
long before Thomas Paine wrote on the subject, Mr. Gads- 
den had delivered himself of sound and excursive views 
in regard to the rights of man and the representative 
system. Tenacious, in a high degree, of his personal 
rights, he was not less so of those which belonged to his 
country ; and, in debate and by his writings, he attempted, 
at a very early period, to indoctrinate his contemporaries 
with his convictions. There were few, at the beginning, 
to see and speak with his boldness and independence. 
Ramsay says, " he would have been another Hampdeti in 
the days of King Charles." As a speaker, he was equally 
Slow and fiery. His soul seemed impatient of the frigii^ity 



ADVOCATES A GENERAL CONGRESS. 275 

and reluctance of his tongue. But his good sense, his un- 
doubted honesty, his zeal and independence, amply com- 
pensated for all defects of eloquence. Josiah Quincy the 
younger, who visited Carolina for his health in 1773, 
heard him speak in the provincial House of Assembly, at 
that period, and, in a single sentence, gives us a some- 
what striking description of his manner: "Mr. Gadsden 
was plain, blunt, hot, and incorrect ; though very sensible. 
In the course of the debate, he used these very singular 
expressions . for a member of parliament: — <■ And^ Mr. 
Speaker^ if the governor and council donH see Jit to fall in 
with us, I say, let the general duty law, and all, go to the 
devil, sir; and we go about our business.^ " Frankness, 
fearlessness, honesty, and the most sterling common sense, 
were the chief characteristics of his mind. In the colonial 
House of Assembly he was a member from Charleston at 
a very early period ; always active, and always to the in- 
crease of his influence. The encroachments of the British 
provoked hira to utterance long before the passage of the 
Stamp Act. When, in 1765, the project was conceived 
of a general congress in America, he was the most eager 
and urgent advocate for the measure. He was made one 
of its first delegates from South Carolina, and, taking his 
ground as an American, in the more extensive meaning 
of the term, he was never known to abandon his position. 
He might err, for he was fiery, impatient, and absolute ; 
but his errors were always in his country's favour, and 
were children of his unselfish patriotism. When, in 17G7, 
the British scheme of revenue, at the expense of the colo- 
nies, was revived, he was one of the jbrst to propose the 
suspension of all importation from Great Britain. Subse- 
quently, when the news came of the act for shutting up 
the port of Boston, he felt and declared himself as one 
who had suffered the greatest personal injuries. He pro- 
posed and pledged himself to do all that was possible for 
bringing the New Englanders relief. He urged the adop« 



276 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN 

tion ol an agreement wholly preventive of importation and 
exportation eq\ially, and was for cutting ofl', without ex- 
ception or qualification, all intercourse with the mother 
country, until her arrogant pretensions were abandoned 
for ever. So thoroughly earnest was he in these objects, 
that he disagreed with the rest of the delegation from 
South Carolina, who, in Congress, insisted upon the ex- 
emption of rice from the operation of the non-intercourse 
act of association. And yet, no man suffered more 
severely by these very measures than Mr. Gadsden. His 
chief interest lay in the unrestricted operations of com- 
merce. He was the proprietor of a large property which 
was the first to be impaired in value by the measures 
which he counselled; — and had just built one of the most 
extensive and costly wharves in Charleston, to the profit 
and productiveness of which his public policy was in the 
last desfree adverse. But selfish considerations never 
affected his patriotism ; and no American citizen ever lost 
more than he did by the events of his political career. 

His sacrifices were acknowledged, if they were never 
repaid, by his countrymen. In June, 1775, when the 
Provincial Congress of South Carolina resolved on raising 
troops, Mr. Gadsden, while absent on public duty at 
Philadelphia, was elected, without his knowledge, to the 
colonelcy of the first regiment. His personal courage was 
well known. His pretensions, as a military man, were less 
decided ; but were assumed in consequence of his readi- 
ness and activity in the expedition of Lyttleton against the 
Cherokees. He accepted the appointment, and left Con- 
gress to repair to the camp in Carolina, declaring his readi- 
ness to serve " wherever his country placed him, whether 
m the civil or the military; and indifferent, if in the latter, 
whether as colonel or corporal." The next year — 1776 — 
he was raised by Congress to the rank of brigadier-general. 
He was in command, in this capacity, at Fort Johnson, 
"when the invasion of South Carolina, by Sir Peter Parker, 



RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION. 277 

toojc place. The battle and victory at Fok Moultrie 
saved the state, on this occasion, from any further issues . 
and General Gadsden was thus deprived of an opportunity 
of showing how stubbornly he could have done battle for 
the cause and country for which he had perilled and 
pledged himself from the beginning. But he was not, in 
the proper sense of the word, a military man. He had no 
passion for the glory of great soldiership, and felt that he 
could better serve the country in a civil than a military de- 
partment. Accordingly, in the two years interval of repose 
from war, which, in Carolina, followed the defeat of Sir 
Peter Parker, he resigned his commission. He continued, 
however, to serve in the privy council and the Assembly, 
and his activity in the public service was by no means 
lessened by his withdrawal from the sphere of military 
operations. He still showed the same tenacity of resist- 
ance to British usurpation which had marked his spirit 
from the beginning; and was honourably conspicuous 
among his associates in all the efforts to prepare the state 
against the successive attempts which were made by the 
invader. The years 1779 and 1780 find him constantly 
and vigorously engaged in these duties, always ready for 
the severest tasks, and in the front wherever danger 
threatened. When Charleston was yielded to the British, 
he was lieutenant-governor of South Carolina, and was 
paroled, as such, to his own habitation. But his parole 
availed him little. Irritated by the popular outbreaks 
under Marion and Sumter, the British commanders in the 
province, with their loss of temper, lost their sense of 
justice also. Immediately upon the defeat of Gates by 
Cornwallis, Gadsden was arrested in his house ; and, 
with some twenty-eight other leading citizens, who were 
either feared or suspected, was conveyed by a file of 
soldiers on board a prison-ship. This proceeding was 
conceived to be preliminary only to a trial for high treason. 
He was conveyed in this manner to St. Augustine, theji a 
Vol. it. 24 



278 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN. 

British garrison. Here, it was offered to the prisoners thai 
they should enjoy the privileges of the place on renewing 
their paroles, pledging themselves "to do nothing preju- 
dicial to the British interests." The offer was generally 
accepted. But Gadsden treated the suggestion with 
scorn. " With men," said he, " who have once deceived 
me, I can enter into no new contract. I have given one 
parole, and have strictly observed its conditions. In vio- 
lation of its guarantees, without a single accusation made 
against me, I am seized and hurried from my family and 
home. And now I am asked for more pledges, by those 
who will be bound by none. No, sir ; I will give no new 
parole." — " Think better of it," was the reply of the Bri- 
tish officer, commissioned for this duty. "Your rejection 
of this offer consigns you to a dungeon." — " I am ready 
for it — prepare it," was the answer. " I will give no pa- 
role, so help me God !^^ He was immediately hurried to 
the dungeon of the castle at St. Augustine, where he 
lay for ten months, kept from all intelligence, from all 
society, even from the sight of his fellow-captives. His 
estates underwent sequestration at the same time. 

His ten months' imprisonment were not suffered to be 
wearisome. The mind of Gadsden was not less active 
than inflexible. He had resources which made him inde- 
pendent of his dungeon. A close application to study 
enabled him to forget his bonds, and it is recorded that he 
emerged from captivity a much more learned man than 
when he entered it. It was in the dungeon of St. Augus- 
tine that he commenced the sti^dy of the Hebrew. Here 
he showed the firmness and magnanimity of a great man. 
He had no complaints; he acknowledged no suffiirings. A 
generous English subaltern, sympathizing with his pur- 
suits, offered to provide him secretly with lights, which had 
been forbidden. He rejected the precious privilege, lest 
It should involve the officer in difficulty and subject hira 
to punishment. When Andre was arrested and 'hitateneo 



RETURNS TO SOUTH CAROLINA. 279 

with death as a spy, Colonel Glazier, British commandan 
of the post, communicated the affair to Gadsden, advising 
him to prepare for the worst ; for that, in the event of 
Andre's execution, he would most probably be the person 
chosen to suffer as a retaliatory British example. Gadsden 
answered that " he was always ready to die for his coun- 
try; and though he well knew that it was impossible for 
Washington to yield the right of an independent state b»- 
the laws of war to fear or to affection, yet he was not the 
person to shrink from the sacrifice. He would rather 
ascend the scaffold than purchase, with his life, the dis- 
honour of his country." 

The threat proved an idle one, and was probably only 
another mode adopted for annoying or intimidating a spirit 
which it had hitherto been found impossible to subdue. 
The progress of events brought him release some time in 
1781, when the successes of Greene, and the southern 
partisans, procured an adequate number of British prisoners 
for exchanges. Gadsden was carried to Philadelphia, 
and from thence he hastened back to Carolina. Here the 
tide had set decidedly in favour of the patriots. The 
British were worn out with the struggle. Civil govern- 
ment was about to be restored on the popular basis ; and 
General Gadsden was prepared to participate, once more, 
in the duties and responsibilities of the country. He was 
at once elected to a seat in the first legislative Assembly, 
which declared the recovery of the state from the invader. 
This body met at Jacksonborough ; when John Rutledge 
surrendered into its hands the office of governor, which 
he had held, during the most trying period, with a rare 
ability. Gadsden was at once chosen his successor ; but 
he declined the appointment, in a short speech, to the 
loll(»wing effect : 

" I have served you," was his address to the speaker 
and the House, " in a variety of stations, for thirty years, 
and I would now cheerfully make one of a forlorn hope 



280 CHRISTOPHER GADSDEN. 

in an assault upon the lines of Charleston, if it were pro- 
bable that with the certain loss of my life you would be 
reinstated in the possession of your capital. What I can 

do for my country, I am willing to do If 

my acceptance of the office of governor would serve my 
country, even though my administration should be attended 
with loss of personal credit and reputation, I would cheer- 
fully undertake it. But the present times require the 
vigour and activity of the prime of life ; and I feel the in- 
creasing infirmities of age to such a degree that I am con- 
scious I cannot serve you to advantage." 

He entreated to be permitted to decline the trust, but 
continued to serve in the Assembly and privy council. 
Here he gave a striking proof of his magnanimity. His 
own loss of property by sequestration and waste had been 
immense, yet he stubbornly resisted the retaliatory law 
which confiscated the estates of those who had adhered 
to the British government, insisting that the true policy 
was to forget the offence and forgive the offender. 

At the close of the war, and with the departure of the 
British from the state, General Gadsden retired into private 
life, only occasionally taking part in public affairs, serving 
in the convention of 1788 for the ratification of the 
national constitution, and, in 1790, for revising the state 
constitution. He survived his eighty-first year, usually in 
the enjoyment of good health, his death being finally pre- 
cipitated by an accidental fall, which hurried the inevitable 
event in the life of the mortal. He died, as he had lived, 
honoured and respected by all around him. He was a 
man of strong passions and strong prejudices, and it re- 
quired all his religion and resolve of character to subdue 
his moods to forbearance and propriety. He was the 
friend of peace. He believed that lawyers were of mis- 
chievous influence, and was of opinion that they should 
always be provided, as were the judges, at the public ex- 
pense ; conceiving, as Mr. Locke did, thai it was " a base 



JAMES HOGAN. 28l 

and vile thing to plead for money or reward. Of pliy- 
sicians he thought as little, considering exercise and tem* 
perance as worth all their prescriptions. His character 
was hard and granite-like, antique in the mould and fashion, 
not unlike that of the elder Cato. Othces of profit he 
always steadily rejected ; even refusing the compensa- 
tion which, by law, attached to such offices of trust as 
were conferred upon him. Altogether, his mind and prin 
ciples deserve, as we have already said, a more elaborate 
examination, and a more comprehensive memorial, than 
can be accorded them in this imperfect sketch. His 
writings are important to the future historian of the coun- 
try, as illustrating the rise, growth, and progress of opinion 
in one of those sections in which the activity was great, 
and where the conflict was of the most extreme and un- 
compromising character. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES HOGAN. 

The principle of appointing officers in the continental 
army from the various states according to their quotas, was 
perhaps unavoidable ; but it secured commissions to some 
persons of small abilities, who are known at this time only 
by the appearance of their names in the state papers, or for 
the pertinacity with which they insisted upon military eti- 
quette and rank. James Hogan was one of the represen- 
tatives of Halifax in the Provincial Congress of North 
Carolina, which assembled on the 4th of April, 1776, and, 
upon the organization of the forces of the colony, was made 
paymaster of the third regiment; and, on the 17th of the 
same month, was chosen major of the Edenton and Halifax 
militia. He continued in the state on continental service 
during the war; and, on the 9th of January, 1779, was 
appointed a brigadier-general in the line. 

24* 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL ISAAC HUGER. 

Insisting upon the Anglo-Saxon origin and character- 
sties of our country, we are commonly guilty of a great 
injustice to other lands, to which we owe no small por- 
tion of that noble stock of individual character, which has 
served to make our nation famous. Among the foreign 
sources of this contribution from abroad, to the formation 
of our infant society, we should never overlook the nu- 
merous colonies of Huguenots, who after, and even before 
the revocation of the edict of Nantz, fled to English- 
America as to a place of refuge. South Carolina was 
particularly fortunate in being one of the colonies chosen 
by the emigrants as a safe home against persecution. 
She received large acquisition from this stock, at this 
period, and has had reason ever since to be grateful for 
the good fortune which brought them to her shores. To 
this day, the descendants of the Huguenot exiles rank 
among the noblest of their citizens. They have contri- 
buted equally to her strength and her reputation ; and 
many of her best scholars, her bravest soldiers, and most 
polished gentlemen, claim direct descent from this ex- 
clusive original. 

The Huger ^family rank with the noblest stocks in 
Carolina. Its ancestors came from Touraine in France. 
They fled from tyranny and intolerance, and brought with 
them their most valuable possession, a spirit of civil 
and religious independence, which they were fortunate in 
transmitting, in all its original purity, to their children. 
Isaac Huger was the grandson of the emigrants. He was 
born at Limerick plantation, at the head-waters of Cooper 
river, on the 19th March, 1742. His parents were Daniel 
Huger and Mary Cordes, both natives of South Carolina 
283 



HIS FAMILY AND EDUCATION. 283 

Isaac was one of the many sons, — Daniel, Isaac, John 
Benjamin and Francis, — most of whom were more or less 
active and distinguished in the war of the Revolution 
Daniel was long a member of Congress; John was ably 
and well known in the councils of the State ; P^rancis 
was at the battle of Fort Moultrie; Benjamin fell in 
battle at the lines of Charleston ; while his son Francis 
distinguished himself in Europe, with Bollman, in the 
chivalrous and self-sacrificing attempt to rescue Lafayette 
from the dungeons of Olmutz. Our present notice is de- 
voted to Isaac, the second of the brothers. His early 
education was quite as good as the country could afford. 
His parents had large fortunes, and their sons were sent 
to Europe, as was the fashion of the times, to complete 
and perfect their intellectual acquisitions. They returned 
in season to take part in the struggle of their native soil 
against the oppressors. The motto on the family arms, 
«' Ubi libertas, ibi patiia,^^ found them steadfast in the 
faith. Isaac Huger received a commission from the Pro- 
vincial Congress as lieutenant-colonel of the first regiment, 
of which Christopher Gadsden was colonel, on the 17th 
day of June, 1775. This was not a gratuitous distinc- 
tion, conferred simply in anticipation of future service. 
Isaac Huger had already shown himself a soldier, having 
serve'd in the expedition under Colonel Montgomery (after- 
wards Lord Eglintoun) against the Cherokees, in that 
frequent Indian war which proved so excellent a school 
and nursery for so many of the southern captains. He 
was unfortunate in being stationed at Fort Johnson, in 
Charleston harbour, during the first invasion of South 
Carolina by the British under Sir Peter Parker. This 
fortress was permitted to take no part in the conflict. It 
was here that he gave an instance of that recklessness 
of nazard, which was the distinguishing trait in his cha- 
racter, and which sometimes had the effect of making him 
regardless of proper precautions. When Governor Rul 



284 ISAAC HUGER. 

ledge inspected the arrangements for the defence of Fort 
Johnson, he remarked to Huger, familiarly, "Very good, 
Isaac, very good ; but I do not see that you have made 
any provision for your retreat." <' Retreat, no !" was the 
reply of the other, and he garnished the rest of the sen- 
tence with an oath which is supposed to be permitted to 
a soldier on the eve of action — '< I do not mean to retreat! 
I do not see that retreat is at all necessary." 

Recoiling from the bulwarks of Fort Sullivan, the tide 
of war rolled back from the southern upon the northern 
colonies. For two years after the failure of this first 
British expedition against Carolina, the south remained 
free from invasion, though not from the frequent threat of 
it. During this period, Huger was promoted to the colo- 
nelcy of the fifth regiment of South Carolina. His next 
service was in Georgia. Hither he went, with his regi- 
ment, on the invasion of that province by Colonel Camp- 
bell ; and was opposed to the progress of General Prevost, 
with whom he had several skirmishes. His command was 
finally united with that of General Howe, and he acted as 
brigadier ; but without the materiel ov pei'sonnel which could 
encourage the hope of any successful performance. The 
Americans, enfeebled by sickness and want of arms and 
clothing, diminished rapidly, in the face of a superior and 
an active enemy, and in the conflict with the British at 
Savannah, the right being led by Huger, they were only 
able to show what might have been done under better 
auspices. In the retreat which followed this event. Ge- 
neral Huger maintained admirable order in his division, 
and brought it in safety to Perrysburg, where a junction wa<» 
formed with the force stationed at that place under the 
command of Moultrie. 

The British, meanwhile, had spread themselves over 
Georgia, and South Carolina had become a frontier. It 
was important to effect a diversion in the former state, 
foi the relief of the latter; and the better to cal" into active 



BATTLE OF STONO. 285 

service the militia, and to alarm the fears of the British 
with regard to their present acquisitions, Major-General 
Lincoln, who had taken command of the continental forces, 
in the southern department, marched with a select body 
of troops into the interior of Georgia. He was accom- 
panied by General Huger. Advancing along the Ogeehee, 
they were suddenly surprised by the tidings of an attempt 
upon the city of Charleston, by the British under Prevost. 
This enterprising commander, availing himself of Lin- 
coln's absence in Georgia, passed suddenly over the 
Savannah into Carolina, in hope to capture Charleston by 
a coup de main. Moultrie, with an inferior force of mili- 
tia, was the only obstacle in his way ; and it became ne- 
cessary that Lincoln should return, by forced marches, 
for the safety of the southern metropolis. His approach, 
wirti the stubborn opposition offered by Moultrie, had the 
effect of baffling the British general. But the escape of 
the city was exceedingly narrow. It was in a skirmish 
of the night, on this very occasion, that Major Benjamin 
Huger, the brother of Isaac, was slain. 

Prevost retired to the neighbouring islands, whither 
Lincoln pursued him. General Huger was still with the 
Continentals. He commanded the left wing at the 
spirited battle of Stono, on the 20th June, 1779, and was 
wounded while gallantly leading on his men. The British, 
at length, yielded the ground to their enemies ; and re- 
tiring by way of the sea islands, succeeded in reaching 
Savannah. Hither it became the policy of the Americans 
to pursue them. The appearance of a French armament 
on the coast, under the command of Count d'Estaing, 
suggested the plan of a joint attack upon Savannah, by 
the French and American commanders. A want of pro- 
per concert, and unnecessary delays on the part of the 
assailing forces, enabled the British to prepare for them ; 
and when the assault was ordered, it was almost evidently 
a desperate enterprise. The command of the Georgia 



5286 ISAAC HUGER. 

and South Carolina militia was confided to General Huger 
The two continental columns were led by Colonel Laurens 
and General Mcintosh. The French were divided into 
three bodies also. The details of this disastrous attempt 
belong to other narratives. The column under Colonel 
Laurens was that alone which succeeded in the assault. 
The assailants sank from the murderous fire which en- 
countered their valour, and the penalty which they paia 
for the indiscretion and headstrong confidence of theif 
French general was severely felt by the people of Georgia 
'ind Carolina for long seasons after. 

Strengthened by ample reinforcements, the British were 
at length prepared for a third attempt upon the capital of 
South Carolina. They appeared before the city of Charles- 
ton with an overwhelming armament, as well by sea as land ; 
and, after a three months' league and bombardment, the 
place was surrendered. General Huger was not one of the 
garrison. He had been directed to keep the field, by 
Governor Rutledge, and with a body of light troops, chiefly 
militia, he w^as employed in cutting off supplies to the 
enemy, encountering his detachments, and keeping open 
the communications between the town and country. In 
this duty he sutTered himself to be surprised ; an event 
which, at the time, greatly impaired his military reputa- 
tion. He was stationed at Monk's Corner, temporarily ; 
and greatly fatigued with frequent and harassing exercises. 
His sentinels remiss, and he himself but too apt, as we have 
seen, to look with scorn or indifference upon the usual mi- 
litary precautions, the British, under Colonels Tarleton and 
Webster, succeeded in gaining his rear by unfrequented 
paths. His force was dispersed for a time, and retired 
Ooyond the Santee. 

The fall of Charleston, the defeat of Colonel Beaufort, 
and the sudden irruption of the British, everywhere 
through South Carolina, compelled the patriots to seek 
security by flight to the swamps or to contiguous States, 



i 



BATTLE OF GUILFORD COURT-HOUSE. 287 

Huger, like most others acknowledging the necessity, lay 
dormant for a season. The approach of Gates, with a 
continental army, was too quickly followed by his com- 
plete defeat to encourage any premature exposure on the 
part of the fugitives ; but with the uprising of Sumter 
and Marion, and the appointment of General Greene to 
the southern army, we find Huger once more in the field, 
and in the army of Greene. The victory of Morgan over 
Tarleton at the Cowpens, and the hot pursuit, w^hich 
Cornwallis urged, of the former general, too greatly ex- 
cited the apprehensions of Greene to suflfer him to remain 
in camp. On this occasion the army was set in motion, with 
orders to ascend the banks of the Pee Dee, and proceed 
with all expedition to Salisbury. The disaster of Huger 
at Monk's Corner seems no longer to have impaired his 
reputation, since we find him intrusted with the command, 
while Greene, with a small escort, hastened to afford his 
personal assistance to Morgan, who was keenly pursued 
by his eager adversary. Huger conducted the retreat of 
the Continentals to Guilford, where he was joined by 
Greene, who resumed the command. In the action which 
followed, at Cuilford Court-house, the Virginians were 
confided to Huger, and never did troops behave more 
valiantly under any leader. In spite of the evil example 
of the North Carolinians, who fled at the first fire, they 
stood their ground like veterans, yielding only after a 
sufficiently protracted struggle had served all the pur- 
poses which were contemplated to accrue from their gal- 
lantry. Huger perilled himself on this occasion with hi? 
usual recklessness. He did not belong to that school of 
soldiers who insist that the success of the army consists 
" chiefly in the perfect safety of its commander. He did 
not escape ; was wounded severely, but fortunately not 
dangerously. 

From this moment he follow^ed the fortunes of Greene 
At Hobkirk's Hill he commanded the right wing of the 



288 ISAACHUGER. 

army, a\id had succeeded in making considerable impres- 
sion on the line of the enemy, when an unlucky error 
«jf Colonel Gunby, which threw his favourite regiment into 
confusion, disconcerted all the plans of Greene, and com- 
pelled him to leave, in retreat and disorder, a field in which 
victory was almost within his grasp. In this disastrous 
termination of a hopeful conflict, Huger's exertions were 
of the most exemplary character. His example might 
well have restored the courage of the soldiery, could it 
have repaired the confusion in their ranks. His generous 
efibrts at recovering the day, brought him more than once 
in almost immediate contact with the muzzles of the 
enemy's muskets. His escape was held miraculous. But 
this time he perilled himself without paying the usual 
penalties. He escaped unhurt. He presided soon after 
at the Court of Inquiry, which was appointed to sit upon 
Gunby's conduct, to whose mistake the loss of the battle 
was ascribed, and whom the court censured, but with a 
due regard to his past good behaviour. Huger had not 
served so long, and so faithfully, without fully repairing 
his past errors of incautiousness. He had acquired the 
entire confidence of Greene, who frequently gave the 
army into his charge, and even meditated placing it wholly 
under his command, while he flung himself across the 
path of Cornwallis in Virginia. His declared determina- 
tion was, after the reduction of the posts of Ninety-Six 
and Augusta, to take some strong position that would con- 
fine the enemy to the low country, and then, yielding the 
army wholly to Huger, proceed to North Carolina, hasten- 
ing on expected levies from that quarter, and press- 
ing forvv^ard himself to the encounter with his ancient 
enemy. Subsequent events defeated this arrangement.' 
Rawdon abandoned Ninety-Six, and was making his way 
towards Orangeburg. The American army was immediately 
put in motion, and, after reaching Winnsborough, was 
ordered to disembarrass itself of every thing that could 



RETALIATION RECOMMENDED. 289 

impede its march, and was left again in charge of Huger; 
to whom Greene confided his wnsh that he would press 
fcward to the Congaree, while he, Greene, attended by 
a single aide and small escort of cavalry, pushed on to 
find Colonel Washington, and to observe more nearly the 
indications by which his future measures were to be di- 
rected. 

This progress ultimately brought on the battle of Eutaws, 
by which the British power in Carolina was completely 
prostrated. We do not find that Huger was in this action. 
He was probably kept from it, among the "high hills 
of Santee," by sickness. The season was excessively 
warm; his marches had been hurried and wearisome in 
the last degree ; and the battle was fought on the 8th Sep- 
tember, the most sickly season of the year in Carolina. 
That he was present in the army about this period, is 
certain, from the fact that he was the first person to sign 
the recommendation to General Greene to retaliate for the 
execution of Colonel Hayne, by the British, in like manner 
upon British subjects. « We are not unmindful," is 
the language of this noble document, " that such a mea- 
sure may, in its consequences, involve our own lives in 
additional dangers, but we had rather forego temporary 
distinctions, and commit ourselves to the most desperate 
situation, than prosecute this just and necessary war upon 
terms so dishonourable," — referring to the inequality of 
peril between themselves and the British, if such murders 
as that of Colonel Hayne should be passed without reta- 
liation. 

The close of the war spared the country the necessity 
of adopting any sanguinary act of retribution. General 
Huger went into the conflict a rich man, and emerged 
from it a poor one. His slaves were torn from his estate 
by the British and their Tory alUes ; but he never regretted 
his losses, when he considered the great gain to his coun- 
try's glory and safety. When, at the termination ot tne 

Vol. II. 25 T 



290 MOSES HAZEN. 

strui^gle, General Greene visited him, and was presented 
to his family, he was struck with the group before him, 
and with mucn emotion exclaimed — « I would never, my 
dear Huger, have exposed you so often as I have dene, 
to bear the brunt of the battle, and varied dangers of the 
field, had I known how numerous and lovely a family 
were dependent on your protection." 

General Huger died in Charleston in 1788 or 89. He 
was buried at a farm on Ashley river, the property of one 
of his family, but known at that time as Graham's farm. 
He was a man of great personal popularity ; of frank and 
amiable manners ; graceful of carriage ; erect and vigour- 
ous of frame, and looking every inch the soldier. His cou- 
rage was an unconscious virtue, the natural instinct of a 
mind that knew as little of fear as it was possible for 
mortal to escape knowing. Accustomed to command, he 
carried with him an air of authority, which was quite too 
natural and becoming in him to offend the self-esteem 
of others. He was generous to a fault, affectionately so- 
licitous of the interests of his friends, and never forgetfiil 
of a service. It is remembered tliat the Cherokee In- 
dians, who had made his acquaintance as an enemy, al- 
ways sought him out as a friend, whenever they visited 
the seaboard. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL MOSES HAZEN. 

At the commencement of the Revolution, a strong sym- 
pathy for the colonies existed in some parts of Canada. 
As the struggle advanced, many Canadians enlisted into 
the American army. Congress accepted their services 
appointed officers of their own selection, and several regi- 
ments thus raised rendered good service during the war. 

MosesHazen, a man of considerable wealth, near Saint 



COLONEL OF CONGRESS 's OWN. 291 

John's, furnished supplies and rendered other aid to the 
army of General Montgomery, on his expedition against 
Quebec. After the fall of that officer, and the disastrous 
retreat of our army, Hazen's dwelling-houses, store-houses, 
shops and other buildings, were destroyed by the British 
troops, and his movable property all carried off or de- 
stroyed. Offering his services to Congress, in January, 
1776, he was appointed colonel of the second Canadian regi- 
ment, and furnished with funds for the recruiting service. 
This regiment was known by the name of Congresses Own, 
because it was not attached to the quota of any of the 
States. At the time of his appointment, Colonel Hazen 
was a lieutenant of the British army, on half-pay, and 
Congress agreed to indemnify him for any loss he might 
incur by renouncing his allegiance to the king. He pro- 
ceeded to Canada, where he obtained some recruits, and 
returning to Pennsylvania, filled his ranks, and continued 
during the whole war in active and efficient service. 

Perfectly acquainted with the situation of the^northern 
frontier, he was frequently consulted by the commanding 
generals in that department ; and after the surrender of 
Burgoyne, he urged the expediency of an expedition 
against Canada, which Washington recommended to Con- 
gress. In the fall of 1778 Hazen was sent to Philadelphia 
to explain his plan to that body, and but for want of means 
it would probably have been adopted. 

In June, 1781, he was appointed a brigadier-general, 
and in consideration of his losses and sacrifice Congress 
voted him an indemnity of thirteen thousand dollars, and 
after his death, his widow received a grant of nine hun- 
dred and sixty acres of land, and a pension of two hun- 
dred dollars for life. General Hazen, at the close of the 
war, retired from the array, and died at Troy, New York, 
on the 3d of February, 1803, in the seventieth year of 
his age. 



IJRIGADIER-GENERAL JAMES WILKINSON. 

General Wilkinson was born about the year 1757, 
near the village of Benedict on the Patuxent, in Mary- 
land. He was educated at home, and very early com- 
menced the study of medicine with an uncle who had 
been a surgeon under Wolfe. To this uncle's descrip- 
tions of the war in Canada he attributes an early predilec- 
tion for a military life. In 1773, being then seventeen, 
he was sent by his mother, who was a widow, to the 
medical school of Philadelphia. The day after his arrival 
he visited the barracks, then occupied by a part of the 
I8th regiment, and witnessing their parade, his partiality 
was increased for a military life. In 1775 he returned 
home to practise his profession, but the troubles of the 
period that occupied every mind wrought strongly upon 
his enthusiasm; he became one of an independent com- 
pany in Georgetown, commanded by a Quaker from 
Rhode Island ; and after the battle of Bunker Hill, no 
longer able to control his wishes, abandoned his profes- 
sion, and repaired to the camp at Cambridge. In March, 
1776, General Washington gave him a captain's commis- 
sion in Colonel Reed's New Hampshire regiment, at that 
time attached to General Greene's staff, which he joined 
at New York the next month. It was soon attached to 
the northern army, in which he served under Arnold. 
In July, 1776, he was appointed a brigade major, and 
in December was sent by General Gates to the com- 
mander-in-chief with despatches ; and joining the latter 
on the banks of the Delaware, assisted in the affairs at 
Trenton and Princeton. In January, 1777, he was ap- 
pointed a Heutenant-colonel, with authority to name the 

292 



AID E-D E-C AMP TO GENERAL GATES. 293 

officers in three companies. On General Gates's appoint- 
ment to the command of the northern army, Wilkinson 
gave up his commission in the line, to occupy his former 
station in the staff, a step which excited observation at the 
time, but to which he said he was prompted by zeal for 
the public service, for which he supposed he could do most 
in that quarter, on account of his particular acquaintance 
with its localities. When Gates w^as about to be super- 
seded by Schuyler, he by a general order appointed Colonel 
Wilkinson adjutant-general ; and when he again resumed 
the command he appears to have relied much on his 
adjutant's opinion, and to have followed his advice in 
some important occurrences. On the surrender of Bur- 
goyne, Wilkinson was sent to Congress with the official 
despatches announcing that event,* and thereupon received 
the brevet of brigadier-general. He returned to the head- 
quarters of the northern department, and while there was 
appointed secretary to the board of war, of which General 
Gates was president. The discovery of some intrigues 
of Gates connected with a letter of Conway's against the 
commander-in-chief, in which Wilkinson was implicated 
by Gates's conduct, produced an open rupture between 
them, and his resignation of the secretaryship of the 
board of war. He also resigned his brevet of brigadier, 
and in July, 1770, was appointed clotiiier general to the 
army. 

After the peace, in 1783, Wilkinson went to reside in 
Kentucky with his family, and engaged in some mercan- 
tile transactions, particularly in a contract for tobacco 
with the Spanish governor of Louisiana. Disgusted with 
trade, he entered again into the army, was employed at 



• While on his way, Colonel "Wilkinson stopped so long at Reading 
that Congress received the news first from common repoi-t. When there- 
fore a proposition was made by some member to reward the messenger, 
Roger Sherman seconded the motion, but proposed to amend it by voting 
B whip and a pair of spurs. 

25* 



294 JAMES WILKINSON. 

various points on the frontiers, and had an interview with 
General HamiUon in 1798, and presented to him a general 
view of the western and southern military posts. He 
returned to his command on the Mississippi when peace 
was restored with France ; received Louisiana from the 
French as joint commissioner with Governor Claiborne ; 
remained at the head of the southern department until his 
court-martial in 1811 ; and after being honourably acquitted 
returned, and, when the late war came on, was occupied 
in making defensive fortifications to secure New Orleans. 
In 1813, he was ordered to the northern border, where 
his operations were not successful ; but on being tried by 
a general court-martial in 1815, he was acquitted of all 
blame. On the new organization of the army after the 
peace, he was not retained in the establishment. 

General Wilkinson had become possessed of large 
estates in Mexico, and not long after leaving the army he 
removed to that country. He died in the vicinity of the 
capital, on the 28th of December, 1825, and was buried 
in the parish of St. Miguel. The American minister, 
Mr. Poinsett, and many of the principal citizens, attended 
his funeral. General Wilkinson was twice married: his 
first wife was a daughter of John Biddle of Philadelphia; 
his second, who survived him, was a French woman, 
named Tradeau, whom he married at New Orleans in 
1810. 

General Wilkinson published at Philadelphia, in 1816, 
Memoirs of his Own Times, in three very large octavo 
volumes. It is a work of great value to the historical 
student, who will have little difficulty in detecting the 
passages which are tinged with the author's prejudices. 



MAJOR-GENERAL THOMAS SUMTER. 

The early life of Thomas Sumter is involved in some 
obscurity ; a fact which is quite discreditable, in the case 
of a person so distinguished, to the state for which he 
performed so much, and the descendants who bear his 
name. We are only enabled to gather from a very mea- 
gre and imperfect tradition, that he was born in Virginia, 
somewhere about the year 1734. We are not in posses- 
sion of any facts which can throw light upon his origin 
and family. 

He was still a mere boy, when, as tradition tells us, 
he went as a volunteer against the French and Indians 
in " the old French war." There is a statement, which 
it is perhaps no longer possible to verify, that his courage, 
experience, and shrew<lness, as a scout, commended him 
to the special favour of Lord Dunmore, who employed 
him in a trust, upon the frontier, of equal hazard and im- 
portance. He was present at Braddock's defeat, and was 
probably one of the " Rangers," under Washington, in 
that disastrous expedition, to whose experience in Indian 
warfare, the miserable debris of the British army was in- 
debted for its safety. 

It is not long after these events that we find young 
Sumter in South Carolina. He had probably kept pro- 
gress with the war; and, pursuing the career he had so 
adventurously begun, had followed the track of the French 
and Indian enemies of the English frontier from the bor- 
ders of Virginia to those of Carolina. The natural course 
of events would thus have brought him from the banks of 
ihe Ohio to the mountains of tho Cherokee ; and he who 

200 



296 THOMAS SUMTER. 

had suffered defeat with Braddock, at Du Quesne, in all 
probability^ avenged himself in the subsequent victories of 
Grant, Middleton, and Montgoraer)', at Etchoe, and other 
places. 

Known to his neighbours as a soldier, he was early 
and equally well known among them as a warm friend to 
the principles of those who were opposed to the usurpa- 
tions of Great Britain the resistance of freemen ; and we 
find him, accordingly, as early as March, 1776, appointed 
by the provisional Congress lieutenant-colonel of the 
second regiment of riflemen. That he did not immedi- 
ately distinguish himself in this command, is attributable to 
lack of opportunity, and not to his own supineness or in- 
difference. It was the peculiar good fortune of South 
Carolina, in consequence of a single successful achieve- 
ment, to escape, for the three first years of the Revolution, 
most of the severities of war. The battle of Fort Moultrie, 
which checked the British invasion, in 1776, discouraged, 
for a long time, all future attempts of the enemy upon the 
state. It taught them a degree of respect and forbearance 
which deprived the valour of the citizens of all chance of 
exercise. Sumter was an officer in a regiment which was 
stationed in the interior. His duty lay in watching the 
outbreaks of the disaffected on the frontier — the hostile 
red men — the unquiet and plotting loyalist — and the oc- 
casional British agent or emissary ; all of whom were 
more or less busy in secret, and only waiting the moment 
of relaxed vigilance, on the part of the patriots, to break 
out in open insurrection. Sumter was not present, ac- 
cordingly, at the battle of Fort Moultrie. Sout*h Carolina 
lay upon her arras for nearly three years after this action, 
expecting hourly invasion, but without suffering from it 
until 1780. In the month of May, of that year, Charles^ 
ton was yielded to the British, after a protracted defence 
of nearly three months. In this unfortunate event, South 
Carolina, always very sparsely settled, lost nearly all oJf 



HIS HABITATION FIRED. 291 

her organized soldiery. The militia, not made prisoners 
in the surrender of the city, were scattered, in detached 
bodies, over a wide forest country, which the British, in 
large numbers, soon carried by their arms. Their ovei* 
whelming strength overawed patriotism, subdued resist- 
ance, and counselled valour to a prudent forbearance in 
the season of oppression. 

But the bolder and more tenacious of the patriots, with 
those who were too deeply committed against the royal 
authority, fled from the enemy with whom they had no 
longer power to contend. While some escaped to the 
contiguous states, others took refuge in the less remote, 
but equally secure fastnesses of swamp and forest. Sum- 
ter was one of the fugitives. He retired to the swamps 
of the Santee, from the shelter of which he beheld his wife 
driven from her dwelling, as the wife of an outlawed 
rebel, and the torch of the incendiary applied to his habi- 
tation. The sense of personal wrong added fuel to the 
flames of patriotism. He emerged from his hiding-place, 
and gathered his friends about him. Too few for such 
enterprises as his eager courage demanded, he made his 
way into North Carolina, seeking recruits. One of the 
traditions by which his course along the frontiers of this 
state was marked, is here in place, as equally illustrative 
of his progress and his character. He found himself one 
day at a place known as the " Gillespie settlement." Of 
the Gillespie family there were numerous brothers, who 
were all famous cock-fighters. They were content with 
the conflicts of the barn-yard, having in their possession, 
among other famous fighting birds, a blue hen of the game 
species, whose progeny were particularly distinguished lor 
their martial qualities. Of one of these chickens, called 
Tuck, there is quite a biography. His reputation was ex- 
tended far and wide, from mountain to mountain. He 
was never known to refuse a fight, or to lose a battle. 
Sumter suddenly appeared at the cockpit, and ^•urprised the 



298 THOMAS SUMTER. 

Gillospujs at their usual occupations. They looked up, 
and were struck with the bold and military aspect o( the 
stranger. His well-made person, muscular without bulk, 
impressed them with respect. His eye had in it that fiery 
courage which they were accustomed to admire ; and 
they were not offended, when, with something con- 
temptuous in his voice and manner, as he referred to their 
amusement, which was at once child-like and cruel, he 
called upon them, in abrupt and energetic language, to leave 
the cockpit, and " go with him where he should teach 
them how to fight with men !" They took him at his 
word. "Tuck, for ever!" was the cry of the Gilles- 
pies ; "He is one of the Blue Hen's chickens 1" The 
sobriquet stuck to him always after ; and the eagerness 
with which he sought his enemy on all occasions, and 
frequently without duly measuring the inequalities of the 
parties, amply justified, in the opinion of his followers, the 
nom de guerre of the " Gdme Cock," which they always 
coupled with his name.* 

Sumter was comparatively successful in procuring re- 
cruits. He obtained a greater number than he could arm. 
He was reduced to great straits for weapons. Old mill- 
saws were converted by rude blacksmiths into broad- 
swords. Knives, fastened to the ends of poles, made 
tolerable lances.. The pewter of ancient housekeepers 
was run into bullets, and supplied the few fowling-pieces 
which he could procure with a few rounds of missiles; 
but, with all these rude helps and appliances, it was still 
the case that a portion of his men had to keep aloof in the 
action, waiting till the fall of the enemy, or of their 
comrades, should yield them an opportunity of obtaining 
weapons. But these deficiencies offered no discourage- 



• The propitety of the epithet was very soon acknowledged by the 
enemy. Tarlelon, on one occasion, having hunted for Marion in vsin, ia 
reported to have said to his ofllcerg, « Come, let us leave hunting thvi 
d— — d ' Swamp Fox,' and see if we cannot find the • Game C )ck. ' 



APPOINTED A BRIGADIER. 299 

ments to Sumter. He very quickly proceeded to f^ive the 
Gdlespies the amusements which he had promised them 
The British and their tory allies soon offered him a proper 
opportunity. The state was overrun by their predatory 
bands, which harassed and plundered equally the patriotic 
and the peaceable inhabitants. On the 12ih July, 1780, 
Sumter's little band darled suddenly upon one of these 
parties, at Williams's plantation, in one of the upper dis- 
tricts of South Carolina. The enemy was taken by sur- 
prise, and soon utterly defeated. The sabre did its work 
eagerly. Scarcely twenty of the bewildered wretches 
escaped its edge. Captain Huck, one of the most brutal 
of those who were conspicuous in this warfare, perished in 
his crimes ; and Colonel Furguson, who was probably the 
true commander of the party, a good officer, was also 
among the slain. 

This affair, at once brief and brilliant, though on a small 
scale only, opened equally the eyes of friends and enemies. 
It was was one of the very first, which, after the fall of the 
metropolis, denoted the reawakening of the spirit of pa- 
triotism throughout the state. Sumter's squadron began 
to receive recruits. In a short time he found himself at 
the head of six hundred men. Rutledge, the governor 
of South Carolina, promptly acknowledged his spirit and 
services, by sending him a commission as a brigadier in 
the service of the state ; and assigned to him, as he did to 
Marion, a certain portion of the country which he was to 
cover widi his protection, and rescue from the enemy. He 
did not suffer the spears of his followers to rust. He put 
his brigade again in motion, and, on the 30th of the 
same month, passed Broad river, and advanced upon 
the British post at Rocky Mount. This place was held 
by a considerable force of royalist volunteers and militia, 
under Colonel Turnbull. The defences consisted of 
two log-houses, and a building pierced with loop-holes, 
surrounded by a d.'tch and an abatis. These occupied a 



300 THOMAS SUMTER. 

commanding eminence, and were encircled by an open 
wood. Sumter was wihout artillery ; but his impetuous 
nature and confident courage would not suffer him to re- 
gard this deficiency as any conclusive obstacle to success. 
Sheltering his chief force in the woods around the post, 
he directed them to maintain a constant fire upon its de- 
fenders, whenever they should show themselves; while, 
with a picked body of men, he himself proceeded to the 
assault. The attempt proved a desperate one. It was 
desperately urged. Twice were his men driven back by 
the garrison ; but thrice did Sumter bring them on, heading 
the assault, and scorning the imminent dangers which 
threatened him momently with death. The third time he 
was successful in penetrating the abatis. But the work 
was only begun. He had really gained but a nominal 
advantage. The strength of the place, unknown to him at 
first, soon proved beyond his means. It was with intense 
mortification that he was compelled to acknowledge that 
he could do nothing without artillery. He drew oflf his 
men in good order. His loss was considerable ; but that 
of the enemy was greatly more. This was his consolation. 
Baffled, he was yet undiscouraged ; and his followers had 
acquired confidence from his audacity. This, by itself, 
was an important acquisition, worth many victories. 

From Rocky Mount, he turned his eye upon another of 
the British strongholds. The post at Hanging Rock was 
one of considerable strength, and was manned efficiently. 
It was garrisoned by a force of five hundred men, consist- 
ing of one hundred and sixty infantry, of Tarleton's legion, 
a portion of the loyalist regiment of Colonel Brown, and 
Bryan's North Carolina loyalists. Sumter fell, with great 
fury, first upon Bryan's division, which, taken by sur- 
prise, and overwhelmed by the fierceness of the onset, 
gave way in every direction. Tarleton's infantry next felt 
the shock, and, afier a stout but useless struggle, yielding 
to Us pressure, fell back in disorder upon Brc>ivn's de- 



HANGING ROCK. 301 

tachraent, which it also contributed to di&coaipose. The 
British troops, retreating, succeeded in gaining the centre 
of their position, from which Sumter found it impossible 
to dislodge them. His militia had been disordered, and 
were, unhappily, no longer manageable. They had tasted 
the luxuries of the British camp — had found the liquors 
of the enemy too grateful to be easily abandoned, and thus 
effectually deprived their commander of the means of 
prosecuting his successes. It was his great good fortune, 
and great merit, to be able to withdraw them in season, 
and in good order from a field which he had gallantly 
won, but which their insane appetites did not suffer him' 
to keep. The British were too severely weakened to op- 
pose successfully bis retreat. Of one hundred and sixty 
men of Tarleton's legion alone, sixty-two, according to the 
acknowledgment of the enemy, were put hors de combat. 
The other detachments suffered in proportion. The Ameri- 
can loss was considerable also, but not comparable to that 
of the enemy. 

Sumter lost nothing by the incompleteness of his victory. 
His men were emboldened by the affair, and his own re- 
putation for enterprise and gallantry was greatly increased 
by it. In less than thirty days, he had, with his ill-armed 
recruits, driven in the advanced parties of the enemy 
along the Catawba ; had handled them severely in three 
several conflicts, and had succeeded in providing his follow- 
ers with the more legitimate weapons of a regular warfare. 

The battle of Hanging Rock, which we have just re- 
cited, preceded, by a few days only, the bloody and dis- 
astrous action between Cornwallis and Gates, near Cam- 
den. Just at this moment, the former general had all his 
attention drawn upon the approaching army of the Ameri- 
cans, under the conqueror of Burgoyne. Sumter recrosstd 
rhe Calawba, and was lying on the west side of the river, 
while Gates was hurriedly approaching Rudgley's Mills. 
He immediately communicated to that general intelligence 

Vol. XL 26 



302 THOMAS SUMTER. 

of a large quantity of British stores, on their way to Cam- 
den, under a strong escort ; but which, with a reinforce- 
ment from the regular army, it was in his power to surprise 
and capture. His application was entertained favourably. 
A detachment from Gates's camp was sent him, and the 
moment of their arrival was that of his departure. Putting 
his command in motion for Camden Ferry, Sumter pushed 
forward with equal caution and celerity. Near the break 
of day, on the 16ih August, he had approached, undis- 
covered, to within a few miles of Carey's Fort. The Bri 
tish were taken by surprise. A sudden and impetuous 
•onslaught succeeded, without any serious struggle. The 
fort, the stores, the troops — all, were surrendered, and, in 
possession of forty-four wagons, crammed with valuable 
stores, and numerous prisoners, Sumter properly com- 
menced his retreat, with the view of putting them in 
safety. His course was up the Wateree. That very day 
was fatal to Gates's army. It was on this progress that 
Sumter was apprized of its defeat. Unfortunately, his 
own retreat had brought him nearer to the danger from 
which it should have carried him. When told of Gates's 
misfortime, he was nearly opfiosite the ground upon which 
the battle had been fought that very morning. A river 
ran between him and the victorious enemy ; but this was 
passable in numerous places. It was doubly unfortunate 
that Cornwallis received tidings of Sumter's capture of his 
stores quite as soon as the latter knew of Gates's defeat. 
Cornwallis was one of the best of the British generals. He 
knew that no time was to be lost. He despatched Tarle- 
ton instantly with his legion, and a detachment of in- 
fantry, in pursuit. The chief merit of Tarleton was in the 
rapidity of his execution. He made his troopers use their 
rowels on this occasion ; and, on the l8th, Sumter was 
overtaken at Fishing Creek. Burdened with his baggage, 
his prisoners, three hundred in number, and heavy laden 
wagons, his movements had been necessarily much slowei 



RECRUITS IN NORTH CAROLINA. 303 

than those of the light armed troops which Tarleton cora- 
mandea. His men were harassed by continual toils, and 
his videttes failed to do their duty. They were taken or 
.slain, sleeping upon their posts, and the .amp of Sumter 
was surprised. It was in vain that he made a stand with 
a chosen body of his followers. His troops were dis- 
persed, the prisoners and stores recaptured, and Sumtei 
was again a fugitive. He has been severely censured for 
suffering this surprise. Certainly, in the case of one who 
so iiiuch delighted in surprising others, the game is one 
which he should be well aware demands the utmost unre- 
mitting vigilance. It does not appear, however, that there 
was any lack of caution on the part of Sumter. It is ob- 
vious that the duty of maintaining a proper watch over a 
camp must necessarily be confided to subordinates. The 
general can, after all, exercise only a certain amount of 
personal vigilance. Sumter vras not wanting in his. His 
videttes and sentinels failed in their duty; and this is 
always the peril where the force consists chiefly of militia. 
On this occasion, what their enterprise and valour had won, 
their improvidence lost ; and the organization of his force 
had to be begun anew. 

Sumter made his way once more into North Carolina. 
Here he recruited, in some degree, his force ; and his 
dispersed followers, bringing with them often comrades, 
came into his camp, as he ranged along the regions of the 
Enoree, the Broad, and Tiger rivers. His force gradually 
resumed its form, and attracted to itself the attention of 
the enemy. Emerging from his retreat, Sumter was soon 
upon the track of the loyalists, restraining their predatory 
bands, and punishing their excesses. The British held 
their main camp at Winnsborough. As the force of Sum- 
ter acquired strength, he approached this station ; and, 
taking up a position at the Fishdam Ford, on the east bank 
of Broad river, it became a desire with Lord Cornwallis 
to surprise him a second time in his encampment. Tavle? 



304 THOMAS SUMTER. 

Ion, who had done the business so effectually on a pre- 
vious ocrasion, was apparently the proper person again to 
effect this object. But, while notice was given to Tarle- 
ton of this desire, the impatience of Cornwallis determined 
upon setting forth another expedition for the same purpose; 
and, while Tarleton was summoned from below, where he 
was pursuing the " Swamp Fox," in order that he should 
find more easy prey above, in a second surprise of the 
«* Game Coci<," Colonel Wemyss was detached, with the 
sixty-third regiment and a corps of dragoons, to try his 
hand at the same experiment. 

It is highly probable that Sumter, in taking a position 
in such close proximity to the camp of Cornwallis, antici- 
pated and invited these enterprises. He remembered the 
daring of Tarleton, and naturally desired his revenge. It 
was easy, too, to imagine, that, to a leader like Tarleton, 
who had hitherto been successful chiefly by the audacity 
of his assaults, it would be more natural that he should be 
rash than that he should be prudent. Sumter, at all 
events, had put himself in preparation for the reception of 
any foe. Wemyss made his attack on the camp of our 
brigadier at one o'clock, in the morning of the 9th Novem- 
ber. He was unfortunate in all his calculations. Sumter 
was in waiting for him, having given more than usual 
strength to his advanced guard, and made all his arrange- 
ments not only for his enemy, but in anticipation of a 
night attack. A murderous fire prostrated twenty-three 
of the assailants, at their first approach ; and their several 
succeeding attempts were wholly fruitless. The British, 
in the precipitancy of their flight, left their wounded com- 
mander in the hands of the Americans. Colonel Wemyss 
was shot through both thighs; but he lived. He was ac- 
cused of many crimes against the patriotic inhabitants ; 
and when it was known to the Americans that he was 
their prisoner, they were seized with a desire to bring him 
to immediate and condign punishment. Had Sumter lent 



DEFEAT OF WEMYSS. 305 

any countenance to their wishes, Wemyss would have ex 
piatecl his crimes upon the gallows. In addition to former 
ofFences of the same character, a memorandum of the 
houses and estates he was yet to destroy was found upoc 
his person. This was shown to Sumter ; but, after pos- 
sessing himself of its contents, he magnanimously threw 
the paper into the fire, silenced the murmurs of those who 
sought the life of the wounded man, and, to the great sur- 
prise and confusion of the latter, paid him every attention. 
The defeat of Wemyss increased the anxieties of Corn- 
wallis. Tarleton was again urged to prosecute his at- 
tempts upon an enemy who was equally bold in his enter- 
prises, and rapid in his movements. But Sumter did not 
wait for the coming of another enemy. After the action 
with Wemyss, he crossed Broad river; and, on being 
joined by an additional force of mountaineers, he pre- 
pared to attempt the British post at Ninety-Six. The ra- 
pidity of Tarleton's movemenhs anticipated this attempt, 
and exposed the command of Sumter to imminent danger. 
Whilst the cavalry and light troops of the British army 
were detached, and serving below against Marion, he had 
no apprehensions from the acknowledged superiority of 
Cornwallis in infantry. Entirely unencumbered with bag- 
gage himself, he well knew he could retreat from the 
heavier force of the British army with sufficient and supe- 
rior celerity. His men had no tents but the broad blue 
canopy of heaven; and, for food, the coarse and occa- 
sional fare of the forest sufficed for present necessities. 
His followers were all mounted, knew thoroughly the 
various routes of the country, and could scour away upon 
the approach of a superior force, and find safety in re- 
cesses of which their enemies had no knowledge. Hang- 
ing, therefore, with confidence on the skirts of Cornwallis, 
he used his Superiority, and took advantage of all occa- 
sions for harassing and annoying him. But the approach 
of Tarleton, not only with artillery and with a large force 

26* IT 



306 THOMAS SUMTER. 

of cavalry, but with his infantry on horseback also, changed 
materially the relations between the parties. It was well 
that Sumter heard of his approach in season to effect a 
hasty retreat. He succeeded, though at a late moment, 
in throwing the Tiger river between himself and his pur- 
suer ; and had scarcely done so, when the British legionary 
troops, accompanied by a mounted detachment of the 
sixty-third regiment, appeared in view on the Ojiposite 
side. Sumter took up his position at the house of one 
Blackstock, which afforded a position highly favourable 
for the order of battle of an inferior force. Not doubting 
that the whole force of Tarleton was upon him, his pur- 
pose was to maintain his ground during the day, and to 
disappear quietly under cover of the night. But soon 
discovering that but a portion of the British army had 
reached the ground, he determined to take upon himst^lf 
the initiative in the affair, and to bring on the action at 
once. Tarleton's confidence in himself contributed to the 
success of this design. Convinced that his prey was now 
secure, he occupied an elevated piece of ground in front 
of Sumter's position ; and, immediately after, dismounted 
his men, to relieve them and their horses, until the arrival 
of his artillery and infantry should enable him to begin the 
attack with advantage. But Sumter, conceiving that 
Tarleton's numbers were already sufficiently great for his 
purposes, put a detachment of his riflemen in motion, and 
marched out at the critical moment when the British were 
least a])prehensive and most perfectly at their ease. De- 
scending from the elevation which they occupied, the 
American marksmen drew sufficiently nigh to the enemy 
to use their ducking guns and rifles, and to make their small 
shot available for the purposes of mischief A well- 
directed fire threw all into commotion in the British camp. 
The well-drilled regulars were soon set in array for action, 
and the advance of the sixty-third, with their bayonetSj 
soon warned the men of Sumter to resume their heights 



FLIGHT OF TARLETON. 307 

They did so with great coolness and discretion, emptying 
their pieces as they retired. This retreat was admirably 
managed. It beguiled their pursuers — as it was meant 
to do — to the foot of the hill, and within reach of 
a reserve of rifles which Sumter had prepared for their 
reception. The terrible fire ran through their ranks like 
lightning. Many were prostrated, and the rest thrown 
in:o confusion. Tarletoii saw his danger. Every thing 
depended upon the most prompt and desperate decision. 
He charged fearlessly up the hill, but only to draw upon 
himself a second fire which told as fearfully upon his 
columns as the first had done. The American ranks 
stood firm; his own — thinned by the deadly rifle — began 
to falter. Drawing oflfhis whole corps, he wheeled abou* 
upon Sumter's left, seeking a less precipitous ascent, and 
better footing for his cavalry. This brought him towards 
Blackstock's house, where, under Colonels Clark and 
Twiggs, a little corps of Georgians, one hundred and fifiy 
in number, had been posted. They stood his charge like 
veterans, but the odds were too greatly against them. For 
a moment they yielded to the pressure of the whole Bri- 
tish force, and gave way, until the timely interposition of 
the reserve, under Colonel Winn, and the enfilading fire 
of a company posted within the house, restored the fortune 
of the day. This event terminated the conflict. Wheeling 
about from an enemy whom he had too rashly provoked, 
Tarleton gave spurs to his horse and fled, while the swift- 
footed riflemen darted ofi' in a pursuit which ended only 
with the comins: on of ni^ht. Tarleton never halted until 
he had joined the remainder of his corps, w'hich was now 
only a few miles in the rear. Here he encamped, while 
ihe Americans, inferior in numbers and destitute of artiller}' 
and cavalry, were compelled to content themselves with 
the victory already gained. One hundred and ninety-two 
of the British were left on the field, of whom ninety-two 
were slain, and the rest wounded. The American 'oss 



308 THOMAS SUMTER. 

was al:Tiost nominal. They had never suffered themselves 
to be reached by the bayonet, having tiiemselves no such 
weapon. But their general was among the few who suf- 
fered from the British fire. He received a ball through the 
right breast near the shoulder, a severe wound, which for 
a long time incapacitated him from service. Suspended in 
an ox hide, between two horses, he was thus conveyed by 
a ofuard of faithful followers into North Carolina. He did 
not suffer his troops to await the return of Tarleton, with 
his entire force ; but, after burying the British and their own 
dead, and paying every attention to the British wounded, 
their rolls were called, and they quietly disappeared from 
a neighbourhood which was no longer one of security. 

Congress acknowledged the services of General Sumter 
by a vote of thanks. Cornwallis made his admission also. 
Writing to Tarleton, just after the affair of Blackstock's, 
he says — " I shall be very glad to hear that Sumter is in 
a condition to give us no further trouble. He certainly 
has been our greatest plague in this country." He could 
have no better eulogium than the discomfort and com- 
plaint of his enemy. The wish of Cornwallis was tempo- 
rarily realized. The severity of Sumter's wound put him 
hors de combat for several months ; but, though only par- 
tially recovered, he took the field in the early part of 
1781, at the time when General Greene, who had suc- 
ceeded to the command of the continental army in the 
south, was in full retreat before Cornwallis. The policy 
of the partisans of Carolina was to effect a diversion in 
Greene's favour, by alarming the British general for the 
safety of the several posts which he had left behind him. 
Assembling his militiamen pretty equally from North and 
South Carolina, Sumter made a --apid movement towards 
Fort Granby, on tne soutn oranch of the Congaree, which 
he crossed, and, appearing in force before the post, suc- 
-jeeded in destroying its magazines. At this momeiit, 
Lord Rawdon advanced from Camden, for the relief of the 



ATTACKED BY MAJOR FRAZER. 30^ 

post, and Sumter disappeared before him, only to reappear, 
immediately afier, in front of another British post on the 
same river. The next day he surprised an escort convoy- 
ins: certain wafjons of stores from Charleston to Camden, 
slew thirteen of the escort, and made sixty-six prisoners. 
This performance scarcely achieved, when, swimming his 
horses across the Santee, while his men went over in 
boats, he made a demonstration on Fort Watson ; but, 
failing to surprise the garrison, he desisted from the as- 
sault, the place being quite unassailable without artillery, 
and Lord Rawdon again came to its relief. If this expe- 
dition had no other fruits, it was effectual in breaking up 
the communication between the several posts of the enemy, 
of distressing and disquieting him, and keeping his men 
in continual apprehension, while enduring continual duty. 
On Sumter's return from Fort Watson, he was attacked 
by Major Frazer, near Camden, at the head of a consider- 
able force of regulars and militia ; but that officer had got the 
worst in the conflict, making off" with a loss of twenty of 
his men. After these fatiguing enterprises, Sumter gave 
himself a brief respite from the active duties of the field. 
But this respite did not imply idleness. On the contrary, 
he was never more busy than during this period. Hitherto, 
his efforts had been prosecuted with militia only. His 
troops had never been engaged for stated periods of 
service. They came and went at pleasure, obeying the 
calls of their fields and families quite as readily as they 
did their captain's. It was necessary to amend this sys- 
tem ; and Sumter succeeded in enlisting three small regi- 
ments, as state troops, for a specific period often months. 
With these he at once resumed active operations. Greene, 
meanwhile, relieved of Cornwallis, who was pursuing his way 
towards Virginia, there to officiate in one of the final scenes 
of the revolutionary drama at Yorktown, was preparing to 
return to South Carolina. He wrote to Sumter, apprizing 
him of his intention, and requesting him to make all possible 



310 THOMAS SUMTER. 

airangements for procuring provisions for his army ; to ob 
tain all possible intelligence of the purposes and resources 
of the enemy, and to do all in his power towards breaking 
up the British communication. Sumter was already in 
the field. He swept, with broadsword and rille, the coun- 
try lying between the Broad, Saluda, and Wateree rivers; 
and, in this process, succeeded in dispersing vSeveral par- 
ties of the royalist milida. Greene's reapearaiice in South 
Carolina, with the continentals, was the signal for a more 
decisive and equally active employment of the partisans. 
To Sumter and Marion it was particularly confided to hold 
Lord Rawdon in check, in Charleston or its vicinity, to 
which the British general had retired ; and, in the prose- 
cution of this duty, they gradually closed in upon him, 
until he established a new line of fortified posts, extending 
from Georgetown, by Monk's Corner, Dorchester, and 
other well-known points, to Coosawhatchie. But these 
posts did not prevent the incursions of our enterprising 
generals of brigade. They constantly passed within the 
line thus circumscribed, harassing their enemies, cutting 
otr detachments and supplies, and subjecting them to con- 
stant alarm and insecurity. So tormenting were these 
incursions, that the British conceived the idea of laying 
\vaste the entire region of country thus infested ; depriving 
themselves as well as their sleepless assailants, of the re- 
sources with which it tempted and rewarded their activity. 
The departure of Rawdon for Charleston, from the town 
of Camden, (which he destroyed,) took place on the 10th 
of May; and, on the day following, Sumter assailed and 
took the British post at Orangeburg, with its garrison, 
consisting of a hundred men, and all its stores, which 
were equally valuable and necessary to the half naked 
soldiers in the ranks of the partisans. About this time- 
ernbroilea in a dispute with Colonel Lee, Sumter sent his 
commission to General Greene, whom he thought impro- 
perly partial to Lee. Greene returned it to him, with 



monk's corn i: r. 311 

many expressions of kindness and compliment ; and, cheer- 
fully yielding his private grievances to his sense of patriot- 
ism and duty, he resumed its responsibilities without hesi- 
tation or reluctance. 

The fall of the several British posts, scattered through- 
out the country, gradually confined the British to ver^ 
nirrow limits. The American cordon was gradually and 
firmly closing around them, confining them to the seaboard. 
The few posts which they occupied, within the inierior, 
were severally assailed by detached bodies of the Ameri- 
can militia; and, while Sumter himself proceeded against 
the post at Monk's Corner, occupied by the nin'^teenth 
regiment, his cavalry, under Colonel Hampton, was suc- 
cessfully engaged at other places. A large force of 
mounted refugees were dispersed by this command, and 
the British post at Dorchester broken up. The expedition 
against Monk's Corner was anticipated — Colonel Coates, 
who commanded the Briiish, withdrawing, during the 
night, across a bridge, from which the militiamen ap- 
pointed to guard it had thought proper to retire. Sumter 
rapidly pursued the retreating enemy. Coates, meanwhile, 
had succeeded in occupying a strong position in the 
dwelling and outhouses of Shubrick's plantation. A san- 
guinary conflict ensued, in which, after repeated efforts, 
wanting in artillery, the Americans, who were led by 
Sumter and Marion, were compelled to retire. But the 
loss of the British was very heavy. 

With these events, of which our rapid summary can 
afford but a very imperfect idea, closes the military career 
of Thomas Sumter. Fatigue and wounds had temporarily 
exhausted his energies and strength, and he needed a 
respite from toil, and the pure atmosphere of tl/e moun- 
tains, for his restoration. When able to resume liis duties, 
the war was virtually at an end. During his retirement, 
one great battle was fought — that of the Eufav/s ; his bri- 
gade being oresent, and behaving admirably , under tha 



312 CHARLES SCOTT. 

command of Marion and Henderson. This was the last 
great effort of the British. The republic was safe. The 
domestic legislature was re-established, and the enemy 
sullenly retired from the shores which he had vainly 
laboured to subdue. 

General Sumter survived long after the independence 
of his country was established — long after the government 
had proved its virtues, and the people their principles, in 
establishing themselves as a nation. His public services 
were not forgotten by the country he had served so faith- 
fully. For many years he was a member of the American 
Congress ; first, as a representative, and afterwards as a 
senator. He lived to a mature old age, honoured and re- 
spected to the last; and died on the first of June, 1832, at 
his residence near Bradford Springs, South Carolina, in 
the ninety-eighth year of his age. 



BRIGADIEK-GENERAL CHARLES SCOTT. 

Charlf.s Scott, of Virginia, served in the beginning of 
the Revolution as a colonel, and in April, 1777, was pro- 
moted to the rank of brigadier-general. He was with the 
army in New Jersey during the next two campaigns, and 
was one of the four generals (Stirling, Wayne, Scott, and 
Woodford) who advised the commander-in-chief, against 
the opinions of a majority of a council, to attack Philadel- 
phia. In 1777 he was employed in the recruiting service 
in Virginia, and the legislature of that state was anxious 
that he should remain there for its defence ; but Wash- 
ington ordered him to South Carolina, and being taken 
prisoner at the capitulation of Charleston, he was not ex- 
changed until near the close of the war. 



MAJOR-GENERAL CHARLES C. PINCKNEY. 

The head of the Pinckney family, in South Carolina, 
came over to that province, from Great Britain, some time 
in the year 1692. Charles Pinckney, his son, became a 
person of eminence in the colony, and was at one time 
its chief justice. Charles Cotesworth, the subject of this 
memoir, was born at Charleston, South Carolina, on the 
25th day of February, 1746. At this period, and up to 
the opening of the Revolution, it was the custom of the 
wealthy Carolinians to educate their sons in England. 
This custom was of importance to the colony in its 
struggle with the mother country. It furnished a large 
Dody of highly educated men, who were accomplished in 
he use of all the weapons of intellect which could be 
brought against them ; and made the transition easy, from 
the dependent condition of a colony, to the self-sustaining 
attitude of the republican states. In compliance with 
•:riis custom, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney was taken to 
England, when but seven years old, with his brother 
Thomas — afterwards major-general also — who was still 
younger. Five years of private tuition fitted Charles 
Cotesworth for Westminster, whence he was removed, in 
due course of progress, to Christ Church, Oxford, which 
he left, at the age of eighteen, with the reputation of 
being a fine scholar. From Oxford, he entered, as a 
law student, at the Temple. His industry was not 
relaxed in prosecuting the study of his profession ; and, 
prepared to enter upon the business of life, he returned 
to South Carolina, after a short tour on the continent, and 
a nine months' devotion to military study at the Royal 
Academy of Caen, in Normandy. 

Vol. II. 27 3i3 



314 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNEY. 

His comniission to practise in the provincial courts is 
dated January 19, 1770. He soon attracted the atten- 
tion and patronage of the public. His personal appear 
ance was in his favour — the elegance and ease of his 
deportment — his manly unaffectedness — his high sense 
of honour, and his extensive legal knowledge. His rank 
among his legal brethren was soon declared, in his 
appointment, by Sir Egerton Leigh — then his majesty's 
attorney-general of the province — as his deputy or sub- 
stitute, on circuit, in the district and precinct courts ot 
Camden, Georgetown, and the Cheraws, This appoint- 
ment took place when he was only twenty-seven — an 
early age for such a distinction, in those days of long 
probation. But his professional progress was about to 
be arrested when promising most fairly. The clouds. of 
revolution began to overspread the American firmament. 
Pinckney had long before anticipated the tempest, and 
had decided upon his course. Sixteen years of absence 
had not weaned his affections from his native soil. The 
battle of Lexington was the signal for a general expres- 
sion of feeling and opinion. In none of the colonies was 
this expression more prompt or more decided than in 
South Carolina. Pinckney took his position with the 
Gadsdens, the Rutledges, the Draytons, and other great 
men of that province. At the assembling of the pro- 
vincial Congress, in Charleston, on the first day of June, 
1775, it was almost instantly resolved to raise two regi- 
ments. Pinckney was elected captain in the first, and 
his colonel was Christopher Gadsden. The appointment 
implied immediate duty; and we find him, accordingly, 
setting forth on the recruiting service. His quarters 
were fixed at Newburn, North Carolina. Having obtained 
his recruits, he returned to his regiment, which was soon 
placed on the continental establishment. Overt acts of 
hostility had already taken place in South Carolina: such 
as training the guns of a fort upon British ships of war, 



APPOINTED COLONEL. 315 

and throwing cargoes of tea into the ocean. Captain 
Pinckney was advanced to a majority ; and he had become 
one of the most active and energetic of the Council of 
Safety. We find him, on the night of the 19th December, 
1775, heading a detachment of two hundred rank and 
file, crossing from the city to Haddrill's Point, and, under 
the direction of Colonel Moultrie, throwing up a breast- 
work, the guns of which, by daylight of the following 
morning, were in condition to be used upon the British 
men-of-war — driving them from their anchorage, and 
finally from the harbour. He had now become lieutenant- 
colonel, and appears equally active and successful in the 
performance of civil and military duties. As a member 
of the General Assembly, he takes his place with the 
most conspicuous persons, always distinguished by a 
course of discretion and decision. The activity of the 
Carolinians w-as well calculated to provoke the attention 
of the ministry, and an expedition was planned against 
them, under Commodore Sir Peter Parker and Sir Henry 
Clinton. In preparing for the defence of the city, the 
first regiment — of which Pinckney was second in com 
mand — was assigned a post at Fort Johnson, a fortress 
which occupied a point nearly midway between Fort Sul 
livan and the city. The history of this invasion finds its 
more appropriate place in other parts of this volume. The 
defence of Fort SulHvan, on the 28th June, 1776, under 
Colonel Moultrie, effectually defeated the objects of the 
expedition ; and the first regiment, at Fort Johnson — a 
stronger post than Fort Sullivan — were compelled to re- 
main inactive spectators of the bravery their comrades of 
the second were displaying on the threshold of the har- 
bcur. 

On the 29th October, 1776, Ueutenant-Colonel Pinck- 
ney rose to the command of the first regiment, with the 
rank of colonel — Gadsden having been appointed a bri- 
gadier, by Congress. But the battle of Fort Sullivan 



316 CHARLES COTESWORTH PINCKNEY. 

procured for the province a two years' respite from war 
The eager military spirit of Pinckney was not 6'atis'fied 
with inactivity ; and he left Carolina to join the Ameri- 
can array under Washington. The commander-in-chief 
was soon sensible of his merits, and he received an ap- 
pointment in the general's family, as aid-de-camp. In 
this capacity, he was present at the battles of Brandy- 
wine and Germantown, where, by his fearlessness, activ- 
ity, and intelligence, he confirmed all the favourable im- 
pressions he had made upon Washington, secured his 
confidence, and was subsequently honoured by him with 
the most distinguished military and civil appointments. 
Thus he served, until the tide of war, rolling once more 
back upon the South, threatened South Carolina with a 
new invasion. At the first aspect of danger in his native 
State, Pinckney hurried to its defence, and to the com- 
mand of his regiment. 

General Howe demanded the assistance of the troops 
of South Carolina to put down and punish the loyalists 
of Georgia and Florida. The inroads of these people 
had harassed to desperation the peaceable inhabitants of 
the former colony ; and it was indispensable that a de- 
cided movement should be made to save her from utter 
ruin. Pinckney was ordered to her assistance. He joined 
General Howe at a sickly season of the year ; and the 
climate and exposure, with a succession of arduous du- 
ties, marching and countermarching, in pursuit of an 
enemy whose scattered banditti found ready refuge in the 
swamps and forests, with which their practices had made 
them familiar, rendered the campaign one of singular 
hardship. Its object was, in great measure — though for 
a season only — attained. The loyalists were temporarily 
subdued — taught modesty and caution — and the people 
of Georgia were aflforded a brief respite from the presence 
of their enemies. Of the sufferings of the continentals, 
in this expedition, some impression will be formed, from 



SAVANNAH AND CHARLESTON. 317 

the fact that eleven hundred men, who went on the ser- 
vice, the toils of two months only reduced to three hun 
dred and fifty, fit for duty. Disease only, and not the 
weapons of the enemy, had made this fearful havoc. 

Colonel Pinckney returned to Charleston about mid- 
summer, and was soon actively engaged in duties which 
afforded few chances for repose. Georgia fell into pos- 
session of the British, and Brigadier-General Prevost, an 
active and enterprising officer, taking advantage of the 
absence of General Lincoln, with the principal regular 
force of the South, in the interior, made a rapid dash across 
the Savannah, with a large body of light troops, in the hope 
of taking Charleston by a coup-de-main. In the marches 
and mancEuvres which followed this attempt, an opportu- 
nity was given to bring out the fine military qualities of 
Colonel Pinckney. His reputation as a soldier continued 
to rise, and his regiment, which with the fifth South Car- 
olina formed the second column in the desperate assault 
on the lines of Savannah by the united forces of America 
and France, carried off a full share of honours from one of 
the most bloody combats of the Revolution. 

Two attempts upon South Carolina had now failed. 
Circumstances were more auspicious to a third. Georgia 
was in possession of the British ; the South Carolina 
troops had been terribly diminished in their struggles to 
maintain intact the securities and freedom of the sister 
colony ; and the British commanders in New York,, un- 
fortunate in their late northern campaigns, now turned 
Ttieir eyes upon the South. The British army, in great 
strength, and led by the commander-in-chief, in person, 
aj)peaied early in February, 1780, within thirty miles of 
Charleston. An army often thousand men were landed, 
prepared to make regular approaches against the city ; 
while a powerful naval armament made its appearance 
before the harbour. Charleston was ill-prepared for tne 
encounter. The Stite w'as never less competent to meet 

27* 



318 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNET. 

the exigency of war. The force which could be brought 
together, for the defence of the city, inchiding the inhabit- 
ants able to bear arms, consisted of little more than five 
thousand men. To Fort Moultrie was assigned a body 
of three hundred, and the command was given to Colonel 
Pinckney. The post was one of distinction. The ground 
was the Thermopylce of Carolina. But, taking advan- 
tage of a strong southwardly wind and a flood tide. Ad- 
miral Arbuthnot, who commanded the British fleet, swept 
rapidly by the fort with his ships. Still, ihey were not 
suffered to effect the passage with impunity. Pinckney 
opened his batteries upon them, and continued the fire as 
long as the vessels were within the range of his metal ; 
and he did them mischief enough to show w^hat the event 
must have been had they a second time stopped to en- 
gage in a regular conflict. Twenty-seven of the British 
seamen were killed or wounded. The Richmond's fore- 
topmast was shot away ; the Acetus was run aground, near 
Haddrill's Point, and was fired and abandoned by her 
crew ; and the fleet, more or less, sustained considerable 
damage. The disappointment of Pinckney was great, 
that nothing more could be done at a spot which had done 
so famously on a previous occasion; but he wasted no 
time in idle lamentations. The enemy was still before 
the city, and the opportunity was present for another 
struggle in which ambition and patriotism might equally 
find fields for exertion. He left Fort Moultrie accord- 
ingly, taking with him a detachment of the garrison, and 
returned to the city of Charleston, with the resolution of 
a son, determining to share her fortunes. The siege w'as 
a protracted one — unnecessarily so, since the fortifications 
were field-works only, and the numbers of the enemy 
twice as great as those of the garrison. 

We shall not follow the daily progress of the siege, but 
proceed to the event. As long as courage could avail, 
or skill, or endurance, the example of Pinckney was such 



PRISONKR OF WAR. 319 

as lo bring out all the energies and strength of the citi 
zens. But the Iroops were too few to man the works ; 
the fire of the enemy had long since shown itself superior 
to that of the garrison ; the houses were half in ruins, the 
small-pox was prevailing fatally, and famine at length 
made its appearance to aid the assailants. Still, though 
the case seemed to most others hopeless, Pinckney was 
by no means disposed to despair. At the council of war 
which was summoned to deliberate upon the surrender 
of the city, he delivered his opinion against the measure 
in the following determined language : '« I will not say, 
gentlemen," he said, "that, if the enemy should attempt 
to carry our lines by storm, we should be able success- 
fully to resist them ; but I am convinced that it is in our 
power so to cripple the army which is before us, that, 
although we may not survive to enjoy the benefits our- 
selves, yet, to the United States they will prove incalcu- 
lably great. Considerations of self are wholly out of the 
question. They cannot influence any member of this 
council. My voice is for rejecting all terms of capi- 
tulation, and for continuing hosiilities to the last ex- 
tremity." 

The place capitulated in May, 1780, after a close in- 
vestiture, by land and sea, of nearly three months. Colo- 
nel Pinckney became a prisonerof war ; and was subject, 
with the other prisoners, to a captivity full of privations 
and persecutions. He received intelligence of his ex- 
change and release from captivity, when it could be no 
longer useful to his military ambition, on the 19th Feb- 
ruary, 1782. He had been nearly two years a prisoner. 
His release was followed by promotion. His commis- 
sion, as brigadier, was dated at Princeton, in 1783, when 
the war was virtually at an end. The return of peace 
found his resources nmch impaired, and he resumed the 
practice of the law. To this he brought the most liberal 
spirit, as well as the most rigid sense of justice and pro- 



320 CHARLES COTES WORTH PINCKNEY, 

priety. Governed by the highest principle, his business 
was neveitlieless Inrjj^ely protluctive ; sometimes yielding 
four thousand guineas in a single year, — a large profes- 
sional return in our country, at any period, and particu- 
larly then. 

He was offered a place on the supreme bench ; the 
post of secretary of war, as successor to General Knox ; 
and, on the removal of Randolph, that of secretary of 
state. All these honours he declined, but the mission to 
France, urged upon him in a letter from Washington, 
dated Jidy 8, 1796, he accepted, from a conviction of 
duty. He arrived in Paris on the 5th of December, had 
an interview at the foreign office, and soon saw that the 
government of the Directory was determined not to re- 
ceive him. His fiunous reply to an intimation that peace 
might be secured with money, — « Millions for defence, 
but not a cent for tribute !" was characteristic. After 
two months' residence in the capital he was ordered to 
quit France. He was joined in Holland by Marshall and 
Gerry, and a new effort to settle the difficulties between 
the two nations was without success. Returning to 
America he received the general applause for his firm 
and wise conduct, and on the organization of the pro- 
vincial army was appointed a major-general. The storm 
passed without an appeal to arras, and he retired to the 
quiet of his home. He was in the convention which 
adopted the Constitution of the United States, and in 
1790 he helped to frame that of South Carolina ; but the 
chief portion of his old age was passed in the pursuits 
of science and the pleasures of rural life, at his seat on 
Pinckney Island. 

General Pinckney expired in his eightieth year, in 
Charleston, on the 16th August, 1825, with the resigna- 
tion of a Christian, and that patient calm of mind, which 
had distinguished him throuijh life. 



MAJOR-GENERAL ROBERT HOWE. 

Robert Howe of North Carolina had the honour, 
with John Hancock and Samuel Adams, of being ex- 
cepted from the general pardon offered to the '« rebels" 
by the British commanders. He was one of the mem- 
bers of the committee of safety for the county of Bruns- 
wick, and was colonel of the second regiment of North 
CaroUna militia. Soon after the affair of West Bridge, 
in Virginia, he marched into that colony and joined Colo- 
nel Woodford, with whom he was in command of Norfolk 
on the 1st of January, 1776, when that place was attacked 
and destroyed by Lord Dunmore. Woodford obtained a 
furlough to visit his family, and Howe, after attending to 
the removal of the houseless citizens, wrote to him from 
East Bridge, on the 9th of February — "We have removed 
from Norfolk : thank God for that ! It is entirely destroyed : 
thank God for that also! and we shall soon, I hope, be in 
more comfortable quarters, when I shall be equally pious 
and grateful for that likewise. Our enemies (except two 
six-pounders) did not attempt to molest us, either in de- 
stroying the remains of the town, or in our retreat, but 
remained patient spectators of the whole scene. I expected 
they would be making excursions the next day, and sent 
Major Ruffin with a strong party to interrupt them. They 
had collected some sheep, which we took : they stood a 
small brush, and lost five men : we made eight prisoners, 
and hear they had many wounded. Providence most 
graciously and remarkably continuing to protect us, or- 
dained that we shotdd not lose one, or have one wounded, 
although they returned our fire, and gave our people, 
besides, a smart cannonade. I send anorher party to- 
morrow : they shall have no rest for the soles of their Jeet," 

X 321 



3252 ROBERT now E. 

While thus actively employed in Virginia, ne was 
ordered to return to his native colony, to oppose the 
"Regulators" and "Highlanders," and wasontiie eve of 
marching when the arrival of General Clinton in Hampton 
Roads rendered it necessary to concentrate as large a force 
as possible in that vicinity, and the order was counter- 
manded. On the 1st of March he was appointed a briga- 
dier by the Continental Congress ; the assemblies of Norih 
Carolina and Virg-inia had recojjnised his services in votes 
of thanks ; and to crown his reputation, General Clinton, 
on the 5th of May, excepted him from the pardon otiered 
in the king's name to all Carolinians who should lay down 
their arms and return to their duty and the blessings of a 
tree government as established by the crown. 

General Howe was ordered to the southern department, 
composed of the states of Virginia, North and South Caro- 
lina, and Georgia, and in March, 1777, it was proposed 
by the chief to send him against St. Augustine, but upon 
consideration the project was then abandoned. On the 
20th of October he was made a major-general, and in the 
following summer, the reduction of St. Augustine having 
been decided upon, he was intrusted with the conduct of 
an expedition for that purpose, and proceeded, with little 
opposition, at the head of two thousand regulars and 
South Carolina and Georgia militia, as far as St. Mary's 
river, where the British had erected a fort, called Tonyn 
in compliment to the governor of Florida. This, upon 
General Howe's approach, they destroyed, and after some 
skirmishing they retreated toward St. Augustine, but an 
epedemic setting in and destroying about one-fourth of the 
Americans, General Howe was compelled to abandon the 
pursuit and return to the north. 

A British force under Lieutenant Colonel Campbell was 
now despatched from New York, to co-operate with General 
Prevosf, commanding in East Florida, for the invasion of 
Georo-ia, the defence of which was committed \o Geueral 



FALL OF SAVANNAH. 323 

Howe, Campbell landed under the convoy of Commodore 
Hyde Parker at the mouth of the Savannah river, about 
the 20th of December, with two thousand men. General 
Howe stationed himself with six hundred regulars and a 
small body of militia on the main road to the town of 
Savannah, with a river on his left and a morass in front ; 
but the British commander, while making arrangements 
to attack him, received information from a negro of a 
private path to the right, through which he might march 
without being discovered, and immediately sent Sir James 
Baird by this route to the rear of the Americans, who, 
surprised by the double attack which followed, soon 
broke and fled in disorder, yielding to the enemy an easy 
and complete victory. The American loss was more 
than one hundred killed, and thirty-eight officers and 
four hundred and fifteen privates prisoners, with the fort, 
a large quantity of military stores, provisions, and the 
shipping in the river. Prevost, advancing from Florida, 
took Sunbury, and after joining Campbell assumed the 
command of the united forces. Two thousand North 
Carolinians were marching to the relief of General Howe, 
but they arrived too late ; that part of his army which 
escaped, retreated up the Savannah river, and crossed into 
South Carolina. 

After this disaster, and a court of inquiry, by which he 
was honourably acquitted of all censure for its occurrence, 
General Howe joined the commander-in-chief on the 
Hudson, and he was in command of West Point, when 
that post was committed to Arnold a short time before The 
Treason. In the beginning of 1781 he commanded the 
troops sent to quell the mutiny in the Pennsylvania and 
New Jersey regiments, and for his judicious performance 
of the duty was thanked by the commander-in-chief in 
a general order dated the 30th of January. In June, 
1783, he was ordered on a similar errand to Philadelphia, 
He remained with the army until it was disbanded. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH FRYE. 

Joseph Frye was born in Andover, Massachusetts, in 
1711. He was an active and intelligent man, and at an 
early age represented his town in the general court of the 
colony. He was at the siege of Louisbourg, and was 
colonel at the unfortunate capture of Fort William Henrj 
by Montcalm, in 1757. The French officer La Corne, 
who had great influence among the savages, sent him 
word that he well remembered the humanity he had 
^hown to his countrymen in Nova Scotia ; that he should 
embrace the present opportunity to express his gratitude ; 
and that neither he nor any of the Massachusetts troops 
should receive insult or injury from the Lidians. But 
during the whole transaction he kept at a distance, neither 
affording the promised protection, nor using his influence 
to moderate the vengeance of the Indians, who murdered 
their prisoners before the eyes of the general. In the 
confusion of the attack, an Indian chief seized Colonel 
Frye, plundered and stripped him of his clothes, and 
Jed him into the woods in a direction and manner whirh 
left no doubt as to his design. Arriving at a secluded 
spot, where he expected to meet his fate, he determined 
to make one effort for his life; and sprang upon the 
savage, overpowered and killed him, and fleeing rapidly 
into a thick wood, eluded the search of the Indians, and 
after wandering in various directions for several days, 
subsisting on berries, reached Fort Edward. 

The Provincial Congress of Massachusetts, on the 21st 
of June, 1775, appointed Colonel Frye a major-general, 
and on the 10th of January, 1776, he received the ap- 
pointment of brigadier-general from the Continental Con- 
324 



ARTEMAS WARD. 325 

gress. After remaining a short time with the Massachu- 
setts troops at Cambridge, he retired from active service, 
on account of his age and growing infirmities. He 
removed with several of his connections to the frontier 
of Maine, and founded the town of Fryeburgh. 



MAJOR-GENERAL ARTEMAS WARD. 

Artemas Ward, the first major-general appointed by 
the Continental Congress, was a native of Shrewsbury, 
Massachusetts, and was graduated at Harvard college in 
1748. At an early age he entered into public life as a 
representative in the colonial assembly, and at a later 
period he was chosen to the council, and was one of the 
regularly chosen members displaced by the "Mandamus 
councillors" in 1774. He was also a delegate in the 
first Provincial Congress. 

He had obtained some reputation for military abilities, 
and on the organization of the Massachusetts troops in 
1775 he was appointed commander-in-chief, and held 
this rank when the battle of Bunker Hill was fought, on 
the 17th of June. He continued at the head of the 
army until Washington arrived at Cambridge, and was 
appointed senior major-general in the line, but retired 
from the service in the following March. 

In 1778 General Ward was a member of the executive 
council of Massachusetts, and in 1791 was a member of the 
National Congress, and during all these changes appears 
to have retained his connection with the courts of law. 
In October, 1775, he was made chief justice of the 
Common Pleas, and contin led in the office until his 
resignation in 1798, His judicial conduct, especially 
during Shay's rebellion in 1786, has been warmly and 
justly commended. He died, after a protracted illness, 
on the 28th of October, 1800, aged seventy-thn-e years. 

Vol. II 28 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL RUFUS PUTNAM. 

RuFus Putnam was born in Sutton, Massachusetts, on 
the 9th of April, 1738. He served an apprenticeship 
to the business of a millwright, which was completed in 
his nineteenth year, when he enlisted as a common soldier 
in the provincial army, with which he continued through 
the campaigns of 1757, '58, '59 and '60, when the sur- 
render of Montreal ended the war between Great Britain 
and France. He now returned to Massachusetts, married, 
and settled in the town of New Braintree, to pursue the 
vocation for which he had been educated. He soon dis- 
covered that to carry it on siiccessfully, he must have 
some knowledge of mathematics, and for several years 
devoted his leisure to the study of that science, in which he 
attained to great proficiency, particularly in its appli- 
cation to navigation and surveying. 

In January, 1773, Mr. Putnam sailed from New York 
for East Florida, with a committee appointed to explore 
lands there, which it was supposed had been granted by 
parliament to the provincial olHcers and soldiers who 
had served in the French war. On arriving at Pensacola 
it was ascertained that there had been no such appro- 
priation, but Putnam was hospitably received by the 
governor, and appointed deputy surveyor of the pro- 
vince. The prospect of hostilities with the mother coun- 
try, however, induced him after a short residence in 
Florida to return to Massachusetts, and it is a proof 
of the estimation in which he was held, that he was com- 
missioned as a lieutenant-colonel in one of the first regi- 
ments raised after the battle of Lexington. When Wash- 
ington arrived in Cambridge to assume the command 
of the army, he found Putnam actively engaged at the 

326 



RUFUS PUTNAM. 327 

head of an engineer corps in throwing up d'^fences at 
various points in front of Roxbury ; and the ability ne dis- 
played in this service, which he had undertaken with 
much reluctance, secured for him the favourable con- 
«ideration of the commander-in-chief and of General Lee, 
ind the former soon after wrote to Congress that the mill- 
"wright was altogether a more competent officer than any 
of the French gentlemen to whom it had given appoint- 
ments in that line. 

On the 20th of March, 1776, Putnam arrived in New 
York, and as chief engineer he superintended all the de- 
fences in that part of the country during the ensuing cam- 
paign. In August of this year he was appointed by Con- 
gress an engineer, with the rank of colonel ; but in the 
course of the autumn, in consequence of some dissatis- 
faction with the action of Congress in regard to his corps, 
he left it to take the command of one of the Massachu- 
setts regiments. In the following spring he was attached to 
the northern army, and he distinguished himself at the battle 
of Stillwater at the head of the fourth and fifth regiments 
of Nixon's brigade. A few days after the surprise of Stony 
Point he was appointed to the command of a regiment m 
Wayne's brigade, in which he served until the end of the 
campaign. From February to July, 1782, he was em- 
ployed as one of the commissioners to adjust the claims 
of citizens of New York for losses occasioned by the 
allied armies, and on the 7th of January, 1783, he was 
promoted to be a brigadier-general. 

After the close of the war, General Putnam w^as ap- 
pointed to various civil offices in his native State, and he 
acted as aid to General Lincoln, in quelling Shay's re- 
bellion, in 1787. In April, 1788, as superintendent of the 
affiiirs of the Ohio Company, he founded the village of Ma- 
rietta, the first perm^anent settlement on the eastern part 
of the North-west Territory. On the 5th of May, 1792, 
he was appointed brigadier-general of the army lo act 



328 FRANCIS NASH. 

against the Indians, and on the 27th of September con- 
cluded an important treaty wiih eight tribes at Port Viu' 
cent, now called Vincennes. He was soon after taken 
ill, and arriving in Philadelphia on the 13th of February, 
1773, to make a report of his proceedings, resigned his 
commission. In October of the same year, he was made 
stirveyor-general of the United States, and he held this 
office until September, 1803. In 1802 he was a member 
of the convention which formed the Constitution of Ohio. 
From this period the infirmities of age compelled him to 
decline all employments. He resided at Marietta, where 
he died in his eighty-seventh year, on the 1st of May, 
1824. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL FRANCIS NASH. 

Francis Nash, who was appointed a brigadier-general 
in the continental army in February, 1777, was a native 
of North Carolina, and had been an active officer in the 
militia of that province. In 1771, he commanded a 
company, and particularly distinguished himself in an 
action with a body of insurgents who, under the name of 
Regulators, had risen in arms to the number of fifteen 
hundred, for the avowed purpose of shutting up the courts 
of justice, destroying all the officers of law and all lawyers, 
and prostrating the government itself. A body of one 
thousand militia marched against them, and in a battle at 
Alraansee totally defeated them. When the Revolution 
commenced, Nash received a colonel's commission from 
the North Carolina convention, and upon his appointment 
as brigadier-general by Congress he joined the army 
under Washington. In the battle of Germantown, in 
October, 1727, he was mortally wounded at the head of 
his brigade, which, with Maxwell's, formed the reserve 
of General Lord Stirling. He died a few days after. 



MAJOR-GENERAL ADAM STEPHEN. 

When the governor of Virginia, in 1754, determined 
Dn sending an expedition to the West, under Colonel 
Washington, Captain Adam Stephen joined him on the 
march, with his company, and was in the skirmish of 
Great Meadows, in July of that year. About this time 
he was appointed a major in Washington's regiment, and 
in 1755 was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. 
In the beginning of 1756, while Washington was absent 
from the army on a visit to General Shirley at Boston, 
Stephen was in command at head-quarters in Winchester, 
where he was employed in disciplining the troops, and in 
superintending the erection of the fortification called Fort 
Loudon, in honour of the nobleman who had now suc- 
ceeded General Shirley as commander of the British 
army in America. 

Early in 1757, the alarm was spread that a large force 
of French and Indians was gathering in South Carolina, 
and Colonel Stephen was ordered by Lord Loudon to" 
march with a detachment of Virginia troops to the relief 
of that colony ; but South Carolina was not attacked, the 
timely arrival of fresh troops from England quieted alarms 
in that quarter, and Colonel Stephen soon after returned 
to Winchester, In 1763, we find Colonel Stephen in 
command of the forces raised for the defence of the 
frontiers against the Indians, and his services are known 
t( have been of importance in bringing to a close the 
French and Indian wars. 

When the Revolution commenced, Colonel Stephen was 
appointed by the Virginia convention to command one of 
ihe seven regiments raised by that colony. On the 4th 
of September, 1776, he was made a brigadier m the conti- 

28* 329 



330 E L 1 A S D A V T O N. 

nental service, and on the 19th of Febninry, 1777, was pro- 
moted to be a major-general. His division was attached 
to the main army under Washington. In the battle ot 
Brandywine he was at the head of his division in the 
column fronting the enemy, and conducted with great 
spirit and judgment. At Gerraantown he was in the 
column of Greene, which attacked the right wing of the 
enemy, and behaved with his customary gallantry. General 
Stephen's account of that battle, in which censure is 
thrown upon the troops of his division for retreating, is 
given by Mr. Sparks in his " Life and Writings of Wash- 
ington." Of his subsequent history we know nothing, 
except that in the winter of 1777 he was dismissed from 
the service. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL ELIAS DAYTON. 

Emas Dayton was colonel of one of the regimentj 
raised in New Jersey immediately after the comm.ence 
ment of the war. He was ordered on the 23d of April, 
1776, to reinforce the army in Canada, but on his arrival 
at Albany his destination was countermanded, and he was 
sent to quell the rising spirit of hostility which Sir John 
Johnson was ascertained to be fomenting in Tryon 
county. He remained in Johnstown several weeks, and, 
Sir John having escajied arrest, seized his papers, and 
had Lady Johnson conducted to Albany to be a hostage 
for the peaceable conduct of her husband. Near the end 
of the year Colonel Dayton's regiment was ordered from 
Fort Schuyler to Ticonderoga, and soon after to New 
Jersey, where he was employed in the next campaign. In 
January, 1781, he exerted himself judiciously in suppress- 
ing the revolt in the New Jersey line. He was promoted 
to be a brigadier-general on the 7th of January, J783. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL EDWARD HAND 

Edward Hand, one of the most gallant of the fonign 
officers who served in our revolutionary army, was born 
at ClydufT, King's county, Ireland, on the 31st of Decern 
ber, 1744, and when about thirty years of age came to 
America, as surgeon's mate in the Royal Irish Brigade. 
Resigning this post, he settled in Pennsylvania, for the 
practice of his profession, and in the beginning of the 
Revolution joined Thompson's regiment and was chosen 
lieutenant-colonel. On the 1st of March, 1776, he was 
promoted to be a colonel, and was at the head of his 
regiment in the battle of Long Island, on the even of 
the memorable retreat from Brooklyn, of which he has 
left a graphic account.* Up to the battle of Trenton it 
has been stated that his corps was distinguished in 
every action of the war. On the 1st of April, 1777, he 
was appointed a brigadier-general. In October, 1778, 
he succeeded General Stark in his command at Albany, 
and soon after was engaged in an expedition against 
the Indians of central New York. On^the formation of 
the light infantry corps, in August, 1780, the command 
of one of the two brigades of which it was composed 
was assigned to General Hand, and that of the other to 
General Poor. Near the close of this year he was ap- 
pointed adjutant-general in place of Scammell, who was 
compelled to resign the office by the condition of his 
private fortune ; and he continued in this post until the 
army was disbanded, discharging its duties in a manner 
thai educed the special and warm approval of the chief. 
In 1798, when Washington consented to accept the 

• bee the Life of President Reed, by William B. Reed, vol. i. p. 227 

331 



332 PETER MUHLENBURG. 

command jf the provincial army, he recommended General 
Hand for reappointment to the same station. 

General Hand died at Rockford in Lancaster county, 
Pennsylvania, on the 3d of September, 1802. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL PETER MUHLENBURG. 

Peter Muhlenburg, a son of the Rev. Dr. Henry 
Melchior Muhlenburg, founder of the Lutheran church in 
America, was born in Philadelphia about the year 1745, 
and after studying divinity with his father was settled over 
a church in Woodstock, Virginia. He watched with earnest 
and keen-sighted vigilance the progress of discontents, and 
educated his congregation for the duties of freemen ; and 
when the Revolution commenced he had little trouble in 
enlisting a regiment, of which he was chosen the com- 
mander. He entered the pulpit with sword and cockade 
to preach his farewell sermon, and the next day marched 
to join the army. He was appointed a brigadier-general 
on the 21st of February, 1777, and was with Wayne at 
the storming of Stony Point in 1779, and with Lafayette 
in Virginia, in 1781. He appears to have been on terms 
of intimacy with most of the officers, and to have been re- 
spected by Washington for his courage, decision and integ- 
rity. He had little opportunity to distinguish himself, but 
his conduct at Yorktown has been commended. 

After the close of the war General Muhlenburg settled 
in Pennsylvania, and was vice-president of the executive 
council of the commonwealth, and a representative and 
senator in Congress ; and he received from the President 
of the United States the offices of supervisor of the excise 
in Pennsylvania, and collector of the customs for Phila- 
delphia, the last of which he held at the time of his death, 
which occurred on the 1st of October, 1807, near Schuyl- 
kill, in Montgomery county. 



BRIGADIER-GENERAL ANDREW LEWIS. 

Andrew Lewis, son of a gentleman who came to Vir- 
ginia from Ireland, whither a Huguenot ancestor had fled 
from France upon the revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
was born in Augusta county in that colony, and was one 
of six brothers distinguished for their bravery in defend- 
ing the infant settlements against the Indians. He was, 
with all his brothers, in a company, of which the eldest 
was captain, at Braddock's defeat, and in October, 1758, 
acquired much reputation by his conduct at Fort Du- 
quesne, where he saved the Highlanders under Major 
Grant from being entirely cut to pieces, and with that 
officer and most of his men was taken prisoner and carried 
to Montreal. The Scotchman wrote to General Forbes 
that Lewis had caused his defeat, and his letter falling 
into the hands of the commander of the enemy, who 
knew its falsehood, it was shown to Lewis, who chal- 
.enged Grant, and upon his refusal to fight gave him such 
a token of his estimation as could be received only by 
a lying coward. This was the same Grant who, in 1775, 
declared in the British House of Commons, that he knew 
the Americans well, and would "venture to predict that 
they would never dare face an English army, being 
destitute of every requisite to make good soldiers." 
Lewis was several times in the colonial legislature, and 
was a commissioner from Virginia, with the commission- 
ers of Pennsylvania, New York, and New England, to 
treat with the Six Nations at Fort Stan wick, in 1768. 
Alluding to his strength, stature, symmetry, and grave and 
commanding demeanour, the governor of New York re- 
marked on that occasion that "the earth seemed to 
tremble under him as he walked." He was engaged 

333 



334 ANDREW L E W I S. 

in all the Iiullan wars of the west, clown to the Revo- 
lution, and was tlie commanding general of the Virginia 
troops at the battle of Point Pleasant, on the 10th of 
May, 1774. 

General Washington, with whom Lewis had been at 
Fort Necessity, and umler whom he had served in various 
capacities, had formed a very high estimate of his abili- 
ties and character, and it is said that when the chief 
command of the revolutionary army was proposed to 
him, he expressed a wish that it had been given to his 
old associate. Lewis himself was very much disajv 
pointed when placed no higher than a brigadier in the 
continental army, and otfended that Stephen, who had 
served under him, was preferred for a major-general. 
The chief wrote to him on this subject from Morristown 
on the 30th of March, 1777 : *' I was much disappointed," 
he observes, " at not perceiving your name in the list of 
major-generals, and most sincerely wish that the neglect 
may not induce you to abandon the service. Let me 
beseech you to rollect that the period has now arrived 
when our most vigorous exertions are wanted, when it is 
highly and indispensably necessary for gentlemen of 
abilities in any line, but more especially in the military, 
not to withhold themselves from public employment, or 
sutler any small punctilios to persuade them to retire from 
their country's service. The cause requires your aid ; no 
one more sincerely wishes it than I i\o. A candiil retlec- 
tion oil the rank you held in the last war, added to a 
decent resjiect for the resolution oi' Congress ' not to be 
confuied in making or jnomotiug general otlicers to any 
regular line,' to the propriety of which all America sub- 
mittetl, may remove any uneasiness in your mind on the 
score of neglect. Upon my honour, I think it ought." 
Nevertheless, General Lewis, on the 15th of April, sent in 
his resignation, and the Congress accepted it. 

He was after wards a commisi;iouer to treat with the 



J E D E D I A II HUNTINGTON. 335 

Indians at Fort Pitt; and Washington, wrilint; to him 
m rosjject to his services thcro, under dMa of the 15th 
of October, 1778, remarks, '^ If Congress are not con- 
vinced of the impropriety of a certain irreguhir promo- 
tion, they are the only set of men wlio require further 
and greater proofs than have already been given of the 
error of that measure." On his way liome from the Oliio, 
General Lewis was seized with a fever, in Bedford county, 
about forty miles from his residence, where he died. 



BRIG. GENERAL JEDEDIAII HUNTINGTON 

Jedediah Huntington, son of General Jabez Hunt- 
ington, was born in Norwich, the native place of h..9 
father, on the 15lh of August, 1743, and was educated at 
Harvard college, where, upon his graduation at the age 
of twenty, he delivered the fn\st English oration ever pro- 
nounced in that university. He engaged in commercial 
Dursuits with his father, and at the beginning of the 
Revolution joined the "Sons of Liberty," and was chosen 
captain of a company, and soon afterward colonel of a 
regiment raised in Norwich. Joining the continental 
army, he was at Danbury, with fifty regulars and one 
hundred militia, when 'ri-vou iDuroached that town on the 
26th of April, 1777. Resistance with such a force being 
useless, he retreated to the heights near the town, and 
when the neighbouring militia rallied under (General Silli- 
man, and they were joined by Generals Wooster and 
Arnold, he i)articipated in the skirmishes at llidgefield. 
On the 12th of May, 1777, Huntington was aj)pointe(l 
a brigadier-general, and in the autumn of that year he 
was with Generals Greene and Varnum in New Jersey, 
and in the following winter was with the army at 
Valley Forge. In March, 1778, he was appointed 
with General McDougall and Colonel Wigglesworth to 



336 WILLIAM MAXWELL. 

investigate the causes of the loss of Forts Clinton and 
Montgomery on the Hudson; and he continued to serve 
in that part of the country until the close of the war. 

Upon the election of General Washington to the presi- 
dency, General Huntington was appointed collector of the 
customs for New London, and he removed to that city 
and held there this office for twenty-six years, resigning 
it in 1815. He was also some time treasurer of Con- 
necticut, and was an active member of the convention 
in that state which ratified the federal constitution. He 
died on the 25th of September, 181S, in the seventy- 
sixth year of his age. His first wife, a daughter of 
Governor Trumbull, died while he was on the way to ihe 
army in 1775; and his second, a sister of Bishop Moore, 
of Virginia, survived him, and died in 1831. 



T ii £ E N O, 



